*  ^(o  n'/^ 


Printed  hu  11.  Clark,  Edinburgh 


CONTEXTS, 


Page 


Sweet  Cup  of  Sorrow 

I 

Divine  Sympathy   . 

3 

Beyond  the  Skies   . 

5 

Hope's  Rainbow    . 

6 

God  is  Love 

7 

Labour  and  Rest    . 

1 1 

The  Three  Weepers 

13 

My  God,  my  All    . 

«5 

Thy  Darling  is  not  Dead 

n 

My  Psalm 

19 

The  Christian  Dead 

* 

23 

The  Glory  to  be  Revealed 

25 

Short  Sorrow,  Long  Joy 

26 

Come,  Lord  Jesus 

27 

Thy  Daughter  is  Dead     . 

28 

Thank  the  Lord  for  Sorrow 

30 

The  God  of  Abraham 

31 

Our  Golden  Dav    . 

35 

Clinging 

37 

The  Unchangeable 

39 

iv                                CONTENTS. 

Page 

Our  All -41 

Returning  Clouds  . 

4? 

Pass  over  to  thy  Rest 

44 

Ready  to  Depart    . 

•        47 

Cross  and  Crown    . 

•        49 

The  Refiner  . 

•        5* 

I  am  with  Thee 

•       53 

Light  out  of  Darkness 

•       55 

It  is  Well      .... 

•       57 

All  in  God     .... 

.       58 

Divine  Companionship     . 

59 

Within  Sight  of  Canaan  . 

61 

The  Death  of  Moses 

62 

It  will  soon  be  Well 

•       63 

It  is  the  Lord 

.       64 

The  Taiting  and  the  Meeting  . 

66 

All  is  Well    .... 

68 

Praise  for  the  Hope  of  Glory  . 

70 

Saviour  be  Near     .... 

74 

My  Pilgrimage        .... 

75 

My  Redeemer  Liveth 

77 

The  Ways  of  God 

79 

Who  are  These  and  whence  came  T 

ley    . 

80 

Resting  in  Hope     .... 

83 

The  Joys  of  Heaven 

84 

I  )eath  of  Saints      .... 

86 

Sleep  in  Jesus          .... 

88 

I  )ead  and  Risen     .... 

90 

The  Joys  Above     .... 

92 

CONTENTS. 

Page 

Our  Mother's  Death 93 

Dying  in  the  Lord 

97 

Weep  not  for  Me  .... 

99 

My  Times  are  in  Thy  Hand    . 

100 

Rest  Above  ..... 

102 

Wings  like  a  Dove 

104 

Onward          ..... 

106 

How  Long    ..... 

107 

We  shall  Arise       .... 

109 

Mountain  and  Valley 

1 1 1 

The  Guest     ..... 

iij 

Arise    ...... 

"5 

Whom  having  not  seen  ye  Love 

117 

Haste  not — Rest  not 

119 

Our  Rest 

121 

We  would  see  Jesus 

123 

A  Broken  Heart     ..... 

125 

Evening  Song  after  a  Day  of  Difficulty 

127 

Like  Christ  ...... 

129 

"  She  is  not  Dead,  but  Sleepeth."     . 

- 

131 

Home  of  the  Conquerors 

132 

Our  Beloved            ..... 

i34 

The  Refuge  ...... 

136 

When    He    giveth    Quietness,    who    then 

can 

make 

Trouble  ?..... 

138 

Matthew  xx.  17-28.         .... 

i39 

God  Everywhere     ..... 

140 

The  Retrospect       ..... 

142 

Work  and  Rest       .          .           .           .          . 

144 

vi                                 CONTENTS. 

Page 

The  Harvest  Home         ......      146 

Hymn             ..... 

150 

Desire  to  Depart    .... 

152 

Rest,  weary  Soul    .... 

154 

How  Long  ?            .... 

156 

Thou  wilt  never  grow  Old 

158 

Upheld 

160 

Faith 

162 

Thoughts  in  Blindness     . 

164 

The  Pilgrim's  Farewell    . 

166 

Rachel's  Tears        .... 

168 

The  Heavenly  Well-Spring 

169 

Our  Everlasting  Home    . 

171 

Be  Still          .... 

172 

Looking  to  Jesus    . 

174 

The  Secret  Place  of  the  Most  High 

176 

Death  of  the  Saint 

.      178 

Rest  in  Hope 

.      180 

Star  of  My  Hope  . 

181 

I  would  not  Live  always 

.      182 

When  I  am  Dead  . 

•      183 

Homeward  Bound 

.      186 

A  Little  While       . 

.      188 

A  Prayer 

190 

A  Retrospect 

•      193 

Things  Above 

195 

Divine  Shelter 

197 

Jesus  Help     .... 

[99 

Be  Strong      .... 

201 

CONTENTS. 

vii 

" 

Page 

Consolation   ....... 

.       202 

Comfort  in  Affliction        . 

204 

Secret  Sorrows        ...... 

206 

The  Anvil  and  the  Hammer    .          .          .          . 

.       208 

Heal  Me 

209 

Far  from  Home      ...... 

2IO 

Affliction        ....... 

211 

In  Sorrow      ....... 

212 

Affliction       ....... 

214 

Night  in  the  Dark  Valley          . 

•       215 

Conflict          .          .          .           .          .           .          . 

217 

Divine  Comfort       ...... 

219 

Remember  Me        ...... 

221 

Value  of  Afflictions          . 

.       223 

The  Mourner's  Hymn      .... 

.       224 

The  Days  of  Thy  Mourning  shall  be  Ended 

226 

"  Hope  thou  in  God  "    . 

.       228 

Bitter-Sweet            ..... 

•       230 

Song  of  the  New  Heavens  and  New  Earth 

■       232 

Peace  be  with  You  ! 

•       234 

Thankful  Joy          ..... 

.       236 

The  Night  Song     ..... 

•       238 

Christ  my  Joy         ..... 

24O 

An  Old  Epitaph     ..... 

.       243 

Not  my  Will,  but  Thine  be  Done 

•       245 

Israel's  Cry   .          .          .          .          •  »       • 

•        247 

The  Shadow  of  the  Cross 

■       249 

The  Shepherd  and  the  Rest 

•       250 

Trust    ....... 

•       252 

viii                               CONTENTS. 

Page 

The  Border- Lands            .          .           .          .          .          .253 

Apprehension 

•     256 

Holy  Tears    .... 

•     257 

Whom  have  I  in  Heaven  but  Thee 

•     259 

The  Hiding-Place 

261 

Retirement    .... 

262 

I  am  with  You 

264 

The  Heavenly  City 

.     266 

Patience         .... 

.     268 

As  Thou  Wilt 

269 

Song  of  the  Eternal  Sabbath    . 

270 

Song  of  Resignation 

•     273 

Evening  Song 

.     276 

I  will  not  leave  You 

.     278 

Desire  of  Death 

.     280 

Triumph  over  Death 

282 

The  Consolation  of  the  Bereaved 

284 

Bearing  the  Cross 

286 

Jerusalem  and  the  Morning  Star 

288 

Our  Eai^thly  Sojourn 

290 

A  Hymn        ..... 

293 

I  move  into  the  Light 

295 

Dying  in  the  Lord 

297 

My  Life's  a  Shade 

298 

Onward          ..... 

300 

Hope  in  Loneliness 

303 

Extra  Portam         .... 

305 

T5Z- 


SWEET    CUP    OF    SORROW. 


/ 


Sweet  cup  of  sorrow, 

I  would  drink  thee  ! 
Cup  of  unearthly  wine, 
As  thy  lip  touches  mine, 
I  would  bethink  me, — 
"  Christ,  my  joy  and  hope, 
Once  drained  a  bitterer  cup, 
Let  me  then  drink  thee  up  !' 


Dear  cup  of  sorrow, 

I  would  own  thee  ! 
And  speak  thy  praises  true, 
As  only  those  can  do 
Who  have  known  thee. 


i! 


LYRA    CONSOLATIONIS. 

Sweet  and  bitter  joined 
Medicine  of  soul  and  mind, 
Health  in  thee  let  me  find  ! 

Though  thou  art  bitter, 

Love  is  in  thee  ; 
Pledge  of  the  brighter  wine, 
Let  my  pale  lips  touch  thine, 

For  within  thee 
Are  the  blessings  seven  ; 
O  cup,  O  wine  of  heaven, 
At  the  high  banquet  given  ! 


DIVINE  SYMPATHY. 

Jesus,  my  sorrow  lies  too  deep 
For  human  ministry ; 

It  knows  not  how  to  tell  itself 
To  any  but  to  Thee. 


Thou  dost  remember  still,  amid 
The  glories  of  God?s  throne, 

The  sorrows  of  mortality, 

For  they  were  once  thine  own. 


Yes  :  for,  as  if  thou  wouldst  be  God, 

Even  in  thy  misery, 
There's  been  no  sorrow  but  thine  own, 

Untouched  by  sympathy. 


Jesus,  my  fainting  spirit  brings 
Its  fearfulness  to  Thee  \ 

Thine  eye,  at  least,  can  penetrate 
The  clouded  mystery. 


LYRA    CONSOLATIONIS. 

And  is  it  not,  0  Lord,  enough 

This  holy  sympathy? 
There  is  no  sorrow  e'er  so  deep 

But  I  may  bring  to  Thee. 

It  is  enough,  my  precious  Lord, 

Thy  tender  sympathy  ! 
My  every  sin  and  sorrow  can 

Devolve  itself  on  Thee. 

As  God,  thou  graspedst  e'en  the  whole 

Of  human  misery ; — 
Thine  own  alone  lay  desolate, 

That  Thou  mightst  pitied  be. 

Thy  risen  life  but  whets  Thee  more 

For  kindly  sympathy ; 
Thy  love  unhindered  rests  upon 

Each  bruised  branch  in  Thee. 

Jesus  !  thou  hast  availed  to  probe 

My  deepest  malady ; 
It  freely  flows — more  freely  finds 

The  gracious  remedy. 

Lady  Powerscourt. 


BEYOND  THE  SKIES 

We  seek  a  rest  beyond  the  skies, 

In  everlasting  day ; 
Thro'  floods  and  flames  the  passage  lies, 

But  Jesus  guards  the  way. 
The  swelling  flood  and  raging  flame 

Hear  and  obey  his  word ; 
Then  let  us  triumph  in  his  name, 

Our  Saviour  is  the  Lord. 

Newton. 


HOPE'S    RAINBOW. 

Though  the  heart  that  sorrow  chideth 

Sink  in  anguish  and  in  care ; 
Yet,  if  patience  still  abideth, 

Hope  shall  paint  her  rainbow  there. 
Faith's  bright  lamp  her  light  shall  borrow 

From  religion's  blessed  ray, 
And  from  many  a  coming  morrow 

Charm  the  clouds  of  grief  away. 


Wherefore  should  we  sigh  and  languish, 

When  our  cares  so  soon  shall  cease, 
And  the  heart  that  sows  in  anguish 

Shall  hereafter  reap  in  peace  % 
This  is  not  a  scene  of  pleasure, 

These  are  not  the  shores  of  bliss  ; 
We  shall  gain  a  brighter  treasure, 

Find  a  dearer  land  than  this. 

Anon. 


GOD    IS    LOVE. 

Who  fathoms  the  Eternal  Thought  1 
Who  talks  of  scheme  and  plan  1 

The  Lord  is  God  !  he  needeth  not 
The  poor  device  of  man. 

I  walk  with  bare  hushed  feet  the  ground 
Ye  tread  with  boldness  shod  ; 

I  dare  not  fix  with  mete  and  bound 
The  love  and  power  of  God. 

Ye  praise  his  justice  ;  even  such 

His  pitying  love  I  deem ; 
Ye  seek  a  king  ;  I  fain  would  touch 

The  robe  that  hath  no  seam. 


Ye  see  the  curse  which  overbroods 
A  world  of  pain  and  loss  ; 

I  hear  our  Lord's  beatitudes 
And  prayer  upon  the  cross. 


LYRA    CONSOLATIONIS. 

More  than  your  schoolmen  teach,  within 

Myself,  alas,  I  know  ; 
Too  dark  ye  cannot  paint  the  sin, 

Too  small  the  merit  show. 

I  bow  my  forehead  to  the  dust, 

I  veil  my  eyes  for  shame, 
And  urge,  in  trembling  self-distrust, 

A  prayer  without  a  claim. 

I  see  the  wrong  that  round  me  lies, 

I  feel  the  guilt  within  ; 
I  hear,  with  groans  and  travail-cries, 

The  world  confess  its  sin  : 

Yet  in  the  maddening  maze  of  things, 
And  tossed  by  storm  and  flood, 

To  one  fixed  star  my  spirit  clings  : 
I  know  that  God  is  good  ! 


Not  mine  to  look  when  cherubim 
And  seraphs  may  not  see, 

But  nothing  can  be  good  in  him 
Which  evil  is  in  me. 


GOD  IS  LOVE. 

The  wrong  that  pains  my  soul  below 

I  dare  not  throne  above  ; 
I  know  not  of  his  hate — I  know 

His  goodness  and  his  love. 

I  dimly  guess  from  blessings  known, 

Of  greater  out  of  sight, 
And,  with  the  chastened  Psalmist,  own 

His  judgments  too  are  right. 

I  long  for  household  voices  gone, 
For  vanished  smiles  I  long, 

But  God  hath  led  my  dear  ones  on, 
And  He  can  do  no  wrong. 

I  know  not  what  the  future  hath 

Of  marvel  or  surprise, 
Assured  alone  that  life  and  death 

His  mercy  underlies. 

And  if  my  heart  and  flesh  are  weak 

To  bear  an  untried  pain, 
The  bruised  reed  He  will  not  break, 

But  strengthen  and  sustain. 


io  LYRA  C0NS0LATI0NIS. 

No  offering  of  my  own  I  have, 
Nor  works  my  faith  to  prove ; 

I  can  but  give  the  gifts  he  gave, 
And  plead  his  love  for  love. 

And  so  beside  the  silent  sea 
I  wait  the  muffled  oar ; 

No  harm  from  him  can  come  to  me 
On  ocean  or  on  shore. 

I  know  not  where  his  islands  lift 
Their  fronted  balms  in  air ; 

I  only  know  I  cannot  drift 
Beyond  his  love  and  care. 

O  brothers  !  if  my  faith  is  vain, 
If  hopes  like  these  betray, 

Pray  for  me,  that  my  feet  may  gain 
The  sure  and  safer  way. 


And  Thou,  O  Lord  !  by  whom  are  seen 

Thy  creatures  as  they  be, 
Forgive  me  if  too  close  I  lean 

My  human  heart  on  Thee  ! 

Whittier. 


LABOUR   AND    REST. 

"  Two  hands  upon  the  breast,  and  labour  is  past." 

Russian  Proverb. 

"  Two  hands  upon  the  breast, 
And  labour's  done  : 
Two  pale  feet  crossed  in  rest, 

The  race  is  run  : 
Two  eyes  with  coin-weights  shut, 

And  all  tears  cease  : 
Two  lips  where  grief  is  mute, 
And  wrath  at  peace." 
So  pray  we  oftentimes,  mourning  our  lot ; 
God  in  his  kindness  answereth  not. 


"  Two  hands  to  work  addrest 
Aye  for  his  praise  : 
Two  feet  that  never  rest, 
Walking  his  ways  : 


12 


L'YRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 


Two  eyes  that  look  above, 

Still  through  all  tears  : 
Two  lips  that  breathe  but  love, 
Nevermore  fears/' 
So  cry  we  afterwards,  low  at  our  knees, 
Pardon   those   erring  prayers  !     Father,   hear 
these. 


-^s. 


THE    THREE   WEEPERS. 

Sorrow  weeps  ! — 

And  drowns  its  bitterness  in  tears ; 

My  child  of  sorrow, 

Weep  out  the  fulness  of  thy  passionate  grief. 

And  drown  in  tears 

The  bitterness  of  lonely  years. 

God  gives  the  rain  and  sunshine  mild, 

And  both  are  best,  my  child  ! 


Joy  weeps  ! — 

And  overflows  its  banks  with  tears ; 

My  child  of  joy, 

Weep  out  the  gladness  of  thy  pent-up  heart. 

And  let  thy  glistening  eyes 

Run  over  in  their  ecstasies ; 

Life  needeth  joy ;  but  from  on  high 

Descends  what  cannot  die  ! 


H 


LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 


Love  weeps  ! — 

And  feeds  its  silent  life  with  tears ; 

My  child  of  love, 

Pour  out  the  riches  of  thy  yearning  heart, 

And,  like  the  air  of  even, 

Give  and  take  back  the  dew  of  heaven  ; 

And  let  that  longing  heart  of  thine 

Feed  upon  love  divine  ! 

H.  Bonar. 


MY   GOD,    MY   ALL. 


My  soul  doth  pant  towards  Thee, 

My  God,  source  of  eternal  life, 
Flesh  fights  with  me  : 

O  end  the  strife, 
And  part  us,  that  I  may 

Unclay 
My  wearied  spirit,  and  take 

My  flesh  to  thy  eternal  spring. 
Where,  for  his  sake 

Who  is  my  King, 
I  may  wash  all  my  tears  away, 

That  day  ! 
Thou  Conqueror  of  death, 

Glorious  triumpher  o'er  the  grave, 
Whose  holy  breath 

Was  spent  to  save 
Lost  mankind,  make  me  to  be  styled 
Thy  child  ! 


i6 


LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 


And  take  me  when  I  die, 

And  go  unto  my  dust ;  my  soul 
Above  the  sky 

With  saints  enrol 
That  in  thy  arms  for  ever  I 
May  lie  ! 

Jeremy  Taylor. 


-~'-^;< 


THY    DARLING    IS    NOT    DEAD. 


Look  up,  look  up  and  weep  not  so  : 

Thy  darling  is  not  dead ; 
His  sinless  soul  is  cleaving  now 

Yon  sky's  empurpled  bed  : 
His  spirit  drinks  new  life  and  light 

Mid  bowers  of  endless  bloom  ; 
It  is  but  perishable  stuff 

That  moulders  in  the  tomb. 
Then  hush,  O  hush  the  swelling  sigh 

And  dry  the  idle  tear, 
Look  out  upon  yon  glorious  heaven 

And  joy  that  he  is  there. 
Already  hath  he  gained  the  goal 

And  tasted  of  the  bliss, 
The  peace  that  God's  pervading  love 

Prepares  for  souls  like  his. 
Then  calm  thy  sorrow-stricken  heart. 

And  smile  away  despair ; 
Think  of  the  home  thy  child  hath  won 

And  joy  that  he  is  there. 


1 8  LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 

When  summer  evening's  golden  hues 

Are  burning  in  the  sky 
And  odorous  gales  from  balmy  bowers 

Are  breathing  softly  by  ; 
When  earth  is  bright  with  sunset's  beams 

And  flowers  are  blushing  near ; 
And  grief,  all  chastened  and  subdued, 

Is  gathering  to  a  tear : 
How  sweet  'twill  be,  at  such  an  hour, 

And  mid  a  scene  so  fair, 
To  lift  thy  streaming  eyes  to  heaven, 

And  think  that  he  is  there  ! 
And  when  that  final  hour  arrives, 

The  hour  that  all  must  brave, 
Ere  thy  full  ear  of  life  be  reaped, 

And  garnered  in  the  grave ; 
While  deeply  musing  on  the  fate 

Our  prayers  may  not  defer, 
What  ardent  longings  after  bliss 

Each  failing  pulse  will  stir ! 
How  sweet  will  be  the  glance  to  heaven, 

The  heaven  thou  soon  mayst  share ; 
The  memory  of  thy  buried  babe, 

The  hope  to  meet  him  there  ! 

Alaric  A.  Watts. 


MY  PSALM. 

I  mourn  no  more  my  vanished  years  ; 

Beneath  a  tender  rain, 
An  April  rain  of  smiles  and  tears, 

My  heart  is  young  again. 

The  west  winds  blow,  and,  singing  low 
I  hear  the  glad  streams  run ; 

The  windows  of  my  soul  I  throw 
Wide  open  to  the  sun. 

No  longer  forward  nor  behind 

I  look  in  hope  and  fear ; 
But,  grateful,  take  the  good  I  find, 

The  best  of  now  and  here. 


I  plough  no  more  a  desert  land, 
To  harvest  weed  and  tare ; 

The  manna  dropping  from  God's  hand 
Rebukes  my  painful  care. 


2o  LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 

I  break  my  pilgrim  staff,  I  lay 

Aside  the  toiling  oar ; 
The  angel  sought  so  far  away 

I  welcome  at  my  door. 

The  airs  of  spring  may  never  play 

Among  the  ripening  corn, 
Nor  freshness  of  the  flowers  of  May 

Blow  through  the  autumn  morn  ; 

Yet  shall  the  blue-eyed  gentian  look 
Through  fringed  lids  to  heaven, 

And  the  pale  aster  in  the  brook 
Shall  see  its  image  given  ; 

The  woods  shall  wear  their  robes  of  praise, 

The  south  wind  softly  sigh, 
And  sweet,  calm  days  in  golden  haze 

Melt  down  the  amber  sky. 


Not  less  shall  manly  deed  and  word 

Rebuke  an  age  of  wrong ; 
The  graven  flowers  that  wreathe  the  sword 

Make  not  the  blade  less  strong. 


MY  PSALM.  2i 

But  smiting  hands  shall  learn  to  heal, 

To  build  as  to  destroy ; 
Xor  less  my  heart  for  others  feel 

That  I  the  more  enjoy. 

All  as  God  wills,  who  wisely  heeds 

To  give  or  to  withhold, 
And  knoweth  more  of  all  my  needs 

Than  all  my  prayers  have  told  ! 

Enough  that  blessings  undeserved 
Have  marked  my  erring  track — 

That  whereso'er  my  feet  have  swerved. 
His  chastening  turned  me  back — 

That  more  and  more  a  Providence 

Of  love  is  understood, 
Making  the  springs  of  time  and  sense 

Sweet  with  eternal  good — 

That  death  seems  but  a  covered  way 

Which  opens  into  light, 
Wherein  no  blinded  child  can  stray 

Beyond  the  Father's  sight — 


22 


LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 

That  care  and  trial  seem  at  last, 
Through  Memory's  sunset  air, 

Like  mountain-ranges  overpast, 
In  purple  distance  fair — 

That  all  the  jarring  notes  of  life 

Seem  blending  in  a  psalm, 
And  all  the  angles  of  its  strife 

Slow  rounding  into  calm. 

And  so  the  shadows  fall  apart, 
And  so  the  west  winds  play ; 

And  all  the  windows  of  my  heart 
I  open  to  the  day. 

Whittier. 


THE    CHRISTIAN    DEAD. 

They  dread  no  storm  that  lowers, 

No  perished  joy  bewail ; 
They  pluck  no  thorn-clad  flowers, 

Nor  drink  of  streams  that  fail : 
There  is  no  tear-drop  in  their  eye, 

Nor  change  upon  their  brow ; 
The  placid  bosom  heaves  no  sigh, 

Though  all  earth's  idols  bow. 


Who  are  so  greatly  blessed  ? 

From  whom  hath  sorrow  fled? 
Who  find  such  deep  unbroken  rest. 

While  all  things  toil  ? — The  dead  ! 
The  holy  dead  '. — Why  weep  ye  so 

Above  their  sable  bier? 
Thrice  blessed !  they  have  done  with  woe,- 

The  living  claim  the  tear. 


24 


LYRA   CONSOLATIONIS. 


We  dream,  but  they  awake ; 

Dark  visions  mar  our  rest ; 
Mid  thorns  and  snares  our  way  wre  take, 

And  yet  we  mourn  the  blest. 
For  those  who  throng  the  eternal  throne, 

Lost  are  the  tears  we  shed: 
They  are  the  living,  they  alone, 

Whom  thus  we  call  the  dead. 

Sigourney, 


/ 


THE    GLORY    TO    BE    REVEALED. 


The  time  will  come  when  even-  change  shall  cease, 

This  quick  revolving  wheel  shall  rest  in  peace  ; 

Xo  summer  then  shall  glow,  nor  winter  freeze ; 

Nothing  shall  be  to  come,  and  nothing  past, 

But  an  eternal  now  shall  ever  last. 

Though  time  shall  be  no  more,  yet  space  shall  give 

A  nobler  theatre  to  love  and  live. 

Then  all  the  lying  vanities  of  life, 

The  sordid  source  of  envy,  hate,  and  strife. 

Ignoble  as  they  are,  shall  then  appear 

Beneath  the  searching  beam  of  truth  severe. 

Then  souls,  from  sense  refined,  shall  see  the  fraud 

That  led  them  from  the  living  way  of  God. 

Blest  is  the  pile  that  marks  the  hallowed  dust, 

There,  at  the  resurrection  of  the  just, 

When  the  last  trumpet,  with  earth-shaking  sound. 

Shall  wake  her  sleepers  from  their  couch  profound  : 

How  will  the  beatific  sight  display 

All  heavenly  beauty  in  these  climes  of  day  ! 

Petrarch. 


SHORT    SORROW,    LONG   JOY. 


After  long  storms  and  tempests'  sad  assay, 
Which  hardly  I  endured  heretofore, 

In  dread  of  death,  and  dangerous  dismay, 
With  which  my  silly  bark  was  tossed  sore, 
I  do  at  length  descry  the  happy  shore 

In  which  I  hope,  ere  long,  for  to  arrive ; 

Fair  soil  it  seems  from  far,  and  fraught  with  store 

Of  all  that  dear  and  dainty  is  alive. 

Most  happy  he  that  can  at  last  achieve 
The  joyous  safety  of  so  sweet  a  rest ; 

Whose  least  delight  sufficeth  to  deprive 

Remembrance  of  all  pains  which  him  oppressed. 

All  pains  are  nothing  in  respect  of  this ; 

All  sorrows  short  that  gain  eternal  bliss. 

Edmund  Spenser. 


COME,    LORD    JESUS! 

Great  joy  to  me  it  were  to  join  the  throng, 
That  thy  celestial  throne,  O  Lord,  surround, 
Where  perfect  peace  and  pardon  shall  be  found, 

Peace  for  good  doings,  pardon  for  the  "wrong ; 

Great  joy  to  hear  the  vault  of  heaven  prolong 
That  everlasting  trumpet's  mighty  sound, 
That  shall  to  each  award  their  final  bound, — 

Wailing  to  these,  to  those  the  blissful  song. 

GUITTOXE  D'AREZZO,  A.D.    1527. 


THY    DAUGHTER    IS    DEAD. 

I  know  the  child  is  fled  ; 
A  lovely  maiden  comes  to  me  in  dreams, 
Yet  the  same  splendour  in  her  blue  eye  beams, 
While  sunny  hair  ripples  in  wavy  gleams 

Around  the  fair  young  head  ; 
I  know  she  moves,  the  central  star  to  light 
A  pastor's  home :  long  be  that  hearthstone  bright. 


Beyond  the  shadowy  pale 
I  stretch  my  hand,  and  paint  her  destiny 
With  rainbow  hue ;  a  flowery  life-road  see, 
Then  trembling  cry — My  God  it  rests  with  Thee. 

Alas,  a  low  deep  wail 
From  breaking  hearts;  I  know  the  fair  is  fled  ; 
"  Death  found  strange  beauty;"  swift  his  arrow  sped. 


THY  DAUGHTER  IS  DEAD.  29 

Our  Father,  'tis  thy  hand  ! 
The  stricken  feel  it,  yet  'tis  hard  to  say, 
Thy  will  be  done — No  parent  near,  to  lay 
In  those  cold  arms  a  darling's  form  of  clay, 

And  with  the  spirit  stand 
Neath  the  bright  portals  of  eternal  day, 
Till  sister  spirits  beckoned  her  away. 

It  could  not  be,  O  God  ! 
It  could  not  be  !  then  fold  them  tenderly 
In  thy  Almighty  arms  ;  soothe  lovingly 
Each  bleeding  heart,  and  fill  with  heaven  and 
Thee ; 

So  shall  they  kiss  the  rod. 
The  soul  her  shining  wing  shall  lift  from  dust, 
And  sing — "Although  He  slay  me,  I  will  trust." 

O.  E.  Reynold. 


THANK   THE    LORD    FOR   SORROW. 

Thank  the  Lord  for  every  sorrow, 
Thank  Him  for  the  keenest  smart ; 

Pleasures  trouble's  pathway  follow ; 
Anguish  lifts  from  earth  the  heart. 

The  summer's  hot,  oppressive  ray, 
Ripens  but  the  luscious  fruits ; 

On  the  rough  briar's  thorny  spray 
Oft  the  fairest  flower  shoots. 

The  stars  most  brightly  shine  on  high 
In  the  deepest,  darkest  night ; 

'Tis  only  through  a  cloudy  sky 

Bends  the  rainbow's  glorious  light. 


Take,  then,  sorrow  as  a  treasure, 
Thankfully  from  God's  kind  hand ; 

For  th'  unfailing  cup  of  pleasure 
Waits  thee  in  the  better  land. 

From  the  German. 


THE    GOD    OF   ABRAHAM. 

The  God  of  Abraham  praise  ! 
Who  reigns  enthroned  above  : 
Ancient  of  everlasting  days, 
And  God  of  love  ; 
Jehovah,  Great  I  Am  ! 
By  earth  and  heaven  confessed ; 
I  bow  and  bless  the  sacred  name, 
For  ever  bless'd. 


The  God  of  Abraham  praise  ! 
At  whose  supreme  command 
From  earth  I  rise — and  seek  the  joys 
At  his  right  hand ; 
I  all  on  earth  forsake, 
Its  wisdom,  fame,  and  power, 
And  him  my  only  portion  make, 
My  shield  and  tower. 


LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 

The  God  of  Abraham  praise  ! 
Whose  all-sufficient  grace 
Shall  guide  me  all  my  happy  days, 
In  all  his  ways  : 
He  calls  a  worm  his  friend  ! 
He  calls  himself  my  God  ! 
And  He  shall  save  me  to  the  end, 
Through  Jesus'  blood. 

He  by  himself  hath  sworn, 
I  on  his  oath  depend,    , 
I  shall,  on  eagles'  wings  up-borne, 
To  heaven  ascend  : 
I  shall  behold  his  face, 
I  shall  his  power  adore, 
And  sing  the  wonders  of  his  grace 
For  evermore. 


Though  nature's  strength  decay, 
And  earth  and  hell  withstand, 
To  Canaan's  bounds  I  urge  my  way, 
At  his  command  : 
The  watery  deep  I  pass, 
With  Jesus  in  my  view  ; 


THE  GOD  OF  ABRAHAM.  33 

And  through  the  howling  wilderness 
My  way  pursue. 

The  goodly  land  I  see, 
With  peace  and  plenty  bless'd; 
A  land  of  sacred  liberty, 
And  endless  rest : 
There  milk  and  honey  flow, 
And  oil  and  wine  abound ; 
And  trees  of  life  for  ever  grow, 
With  mercy  crown' d. 

There  dwells  the  Lord  our  King, 
The  Lord  our  Righteousness, 
Triumphant  o'er  the  world  and  sin, 
The  Prince  of  Peace  ! 
On  Zion's  sacred  height 
His  kingdom  still  maintains ; 
And  glorious,  with  his  saints  in  light 
For  ever  reigns. 

He  keeps  his  own  secure, 
He  guards  them  by  his  side, 
Arrays  in  garments  white  and  pure, 
His  spotless  bride ; 


D 


34  LYRA   CONSOLATIONIS. 

With  streams  of  sacred  bliss, 
With  groves  of  living  joys, 
With  all  the  fruits  of  paradise, 
He  still  supplies. 

Before  the  Three  in  One, 
They  all  exulting  stand, 
And  tell  the  wonders  He  hath  done, 
Through  all  their  land. 
The  listening  spheres  attend, 
And  swell  the  growing  fame, 
And  sing  in  songs  which  never  end, 
The  wondrous  Name. 

Oliver. 


OUR  GOLDEN  DAY. 

Have  we  not  now  a  golden  daye  1 
The  Lorde  prolonge  the  same  ! 

That  in  his  fear  henceforth  we  may 
Practise  our  lives  to  frame  ; 

And  so  be  thankful  to  our  God 

For  these  his  gifts  of  grace  ; 
That  He  may  still  behold  our  days 

With  his  most  loving  face. 

That  all  our  wordes  and  deedes  henceforth 

May  lerne  so  to  accord, 
That  we,  with  harts  unfained,  may 

Still  live  and  laude  the  Lorde. 


Increase  the  number  of  thy  falde  ; 

Thy  mercie,  Lord,  displaie ; 
Prolonge,  amonge  thy  simple  sheepe, 

This  happy  golden  daie. 


36  LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 

Come,  haste  thy  kingdome,  mighty  God, 
Come,  Jesus  Christ,  we  praie, 

That  all  our  foes  may  learne  and  know 
We  have  a  golden  daie. 

Which  to  continue  longe, 

To  God  let  us  all  pray ; 
Whose  glorious  name  be  lauded  still 

For  this  our  golden  daie. 

John  Phillip,  1570. 


CLINGING. 

Cling  to  the  Mighty  One. 

Cling  in  thy  grief: 
Cling  to  the  Holy  One, 

He  gives  relief. 
Cling  to  the  Gracious  One. 

Cling  in  thy  pain  : 
Cling  to  the  Faithful  One, 

He  will  sustain. 


Cling  to  the  Living  One, 

Cling  in  thy  woe  : 
Cling  to  the  Loving  One, 

Through  all  below  : 
Cling  to  the  Pardoning.  One. 

He  speaketh  peace  : 
Cling  to  the  Healing  One, 

Anguish  will  cease. 


38 


LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 


Cling  to  the  Bleeding  One, 

Cling  to  his  side  : 
Cling  to  the  Rising  One, 

In  Him  abide  : 
Cling  to  the  Coming  One, 

Hope  shall  arise  : 
Cling  to  the  Reigning  One, 

Joy  lights  thine  eyes. 


Anon. 


—  13?  U^ 


THE  UNCHANGEABLE. 

What  though  time  on  earth  were  over  I 

Not  on  time  our  hopes  depend  ; 
Lo,  beyond  it,  we  discover 
Life  that  never  knows  an  end. 
'Mid  the  woes  that  life  attend, 
•     Still  for  rest  we  turn  to  Thee  : 
God,  a  father  and  a  friend, 

Changeless,  in  his  Son  we  see. 


Father  still  in  all  our  need, 

Father  still  in  weal  or  woe  : 
Father  even  of  the  dead, 
When  into  the  grave  we  go. 
Change  may  toss  us  to  and  fro, 

Changeless  He  in  whom  we  trust : 
Even  our  dust  his  care  shall  know, 
When  our  bodies  turn  to  dust. 


4Q 


LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 


Then  let  days  and  years  be  fleeting, 

Swiftly  pass  our  joys  and  woes ; 
'Mid  the  changes  we  are  meeting, 
God,  our  God,  no  changes  knows. 
Ours  be  then  a  life  that  shows 

That,  conducted  by  his  hand, 
We  shall  enter  at  its  close 
Our  beloved  father-land. 

From  the  Dutch. 


OUR  ALL. 


Art  thou  weak,  afflicted  soul  ? 

I  am  strong  to  make  thee  whole. 

Art  thou  sick,  and  hast  no  cure  ? 

I  am  thy  Physician  sure. 

Art  thou  fainting  on  thy  road  ? 

I  am  near  to  bear  thy  load. 

Art  thou  hungry,  thirsty,  poor? 

I  am  rich  to  bless  thy  store. 

Art  thou  much  with  grief  opprest  ? 

I  am  come  to  give  thee  rest. 

Art  thou  weary  of  thy  sin  ? 

I  am  peace  to  thee  within. 

I  am  ready  at  thy  side, 

At  thy  right  and  left  to  guide. 

I  am  life,  and  love,  and  peace, — 

I  am  joy  which  ne'er  shall  cease. 


Axon. 


RETURNING  CLOUDS. 

The  clouds  are  returning  after  the  rain  j 
All  the  long  morning  they  steadily  sweep 

From  the  blue  northwest,  o'er  the  upper  main, 
In  a  peaceful  flight  to  the  eastern  deep. 

With  sails  that  the  cool  wind  fills  or  furls, 
And  shadows  that  darken  the  billowy  grass, 

Freighted  with  amber  or  piled  with  pearls, 
Fleets  of  fair  argosies  rise  and  pass. 


The  earth  smiles  back  to  the  smiling  throng 

From  greening  pasture  and  blooming  field, 
For  the  earth,  that  hath  sickened  with  thirst  so 
long, 
Has  been  touched  by  the  hand  of  the  rain, 
and  healed. 


RETURNING  CLOUDS.  43 

The  old  man  sits  'neath  the  tall  elm  trees, 
And  watches  the  pageant  with  dreamy  eyes. 

While  his  white  locks  stir  to  the  same  cool  breeze 
That  scatters  the  silver  along  the  skies. 

The  old  man's  eyelids  are  wet  with  tears — 
Tears  of  sweet  pleasure  and  sweeter  pain — 

For  his  thoughts  are  driving  back  over  the  years 
In  beautiful  clouds  after  life's  long  rain. 

Sorrows  that  drowned  all  the  springs  of  his  life, 
Trials  that  crushed  him  with  pitiless  beat, 

Storms  of  temptation  and  tempests  of  strife, 
Float  o'er  his  memory  tranquil  and  sweet. 

And  the  old  man's  spirit,  made  soft  and  bright 
By  the  long,  long  rain  that  hath  bent  him  low. 

Sees  a  vision  of  angels  on  wings  of  white, 

In  the  drooping  clouds  as  they  come  and  go. 

American. 


PASS  OVER  TO  THY  REST. 

From  this  bleak  hill  of  storms, 
To  yon  warm  sunny  heights, 
Where  love  for  ever  shines, 

Pass  over  to  thy  rest, 
The  rest  of  God  ! 

From  hunger  and  from  thirst, 
From  toil  and  weariness, 
From  shadows  and  from  dreams, 
Pass  over  to  thy  rest, 
The  rest  of  God  ! 


From  tides,  and  winds,  and  waves, 
From  shipwrecks  of  the  deep, 
From  parted  anchors  here, 

Pass  over  to  thy  rest, 
The  rest  of  God  ! 


PASS  OVER  TO  THY  REST. 

45 

From  weakness  and  from  pain, 

From  trembling  and  from  strife, 

From  watchings  and  from  fears, 

Pass  over  to  thy  rest, 

The  rest  of  God  ! 

From  vanity  and  lies, 

From  mockery  and  snares, 

From  disappointed  hopes, 

Pass  over  to  thy  rest, 

The  rest  of  God  .' 

From  falsehoods  of  the  age, 

From  broken  ties  and  hearts, 

From  suns  gone  down  at  noon, 

Pass  over  to  thy  rest, 

The  rest  of  God  ! 

From  unrealities, 

From  hollow  scenes  of  change, 

From  ache  and  emptiness, 

Pass  over  to  thy  rest, 
The  rest  of  God  ! 

46 


LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 


From  this  unanchored  world, 

Whose  morrow  none  can  tell, 

From  all  things  restless  here, 

Pass  over  to  thy  rest, 
The  rest  of  God  ! 

H.  Bonar. 


READY  TO  DEPART. 

I'm  going  to  leave  all  my  sadness, 

I'm  going  to  change  earth  for  heaven  ; 

There,  there,  all  is  peace,  all  is  gladness, 
There  pureness  and  glory  are  given. 
Come  quickly  then,  Jesus  !     Amen  ! 

Friends,  weep  not  in  sorrow  of  spirit, 
But  joy  that  my  time  here  is  o'er ; 

I  go  the  good  part  to  inherit, 

Where  sorrow  and  sin  are  no  more. 
Come  quickly  then,  Jesus  !     Amen  ! 


The  shadows  of  evening  are  fleeing, 
Morn  breaks  from  the  city  of  light ; 

This  moment  day  starts  into  being, 
Eternity  bursts  on  my  sight. 

Come  quickly  then,  Jesus  !     Amen  ! 


48  LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 

The  first-born  redeemed  from  all  trouble, 
(The  Lamb  that  was  slain,  in  the  throng), 

Their  ardour  in  praising  redouble ; — 
Breaks  not  on  the  ear  the  new  song  1 
Come  quickly  then,  Jesus  !     Amen  ! 

I'm  going  to  tell  their  glad  story, 

To  share  in  their  transports  of  praise  ; 

I'm  going  in  garments  of  glory, 
My  voice  to  unite  with  their  lays. 
Come  quickly  then,  Jesus  !     Amen  ! 

Ye  fetters  corrupted,  then  leave  me  ; 
Thou  body  of  sin,  droop  and  die ; 
Pains  of  earth,  cease  ye  ever  to  grieve  me ; 
From  you  'tis  for  ever  I  fly. 

Come  quickly  then,  Jesus  !     Amen  ! 

Malan. 


CROSS   AND    CROWN. 

Jesus,  our  head,  once  crowned  with  thorns, 

Is  crowned  with  glory  now ; 
Heaven's  royal  diadem  adorns 

The  mighty  victor's  brow. 

Delight  of  all  who  dwell  above, 

The  joy  of  saints  below ; 
To  us  still  manifest  thy  love, 

That  we  its  depths  may  know. 

To  us  thy  cross,  with  all  its  shame, 

With  all  its  grace,  be  given  ! 
Though  earth  disowns  thy  lowly  name, 

All  worship  it  in  heaven. 

Who  suffer  with  Thee,  Lord,  below, 

Will  reign  with  Thee  above ; 
Then  let  it  be  our  joy  to  know 

This  way  of  peace  and  love. 


E 


5° 


LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 


To  us  thy  cross  is  life  and  health, 
Though  shame  and  death  to  Thee, 

Our  present  glory,  joy,  and  wealth, 
Our  everlasting  stay. 


Anon. 


THE    REFINER. 

God's  furnace  doth  in  Zion  stand, 

But  Zion's  God  sits  by  \ 
As  the  refiner  views  his  gold 

With  an  observant  eye. 
God's  thoughts  are  high,  his  love  is  wise, 

His  wounds  a  cure  intend ; 
And  though  He  doth  not  always  smile, 

He  loves  unto  the  end. 


Thy  love  is  constant  to  its  line, 

Though  clouds  oft  come  between ; 
O  could  my  faith  but  pierce  these  clouds, 

It  might  be  always  seen. 
But  I  am  weak,  and  forced  *to  cry, 

Take  up  my  soul  to  Thee ; 
Then,  as  Thou  ever  art  the  same, 

So  shall  I  ever  be. 


52 


LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 


Then  shall  I  ever,  ever  sing, 

While  Thou  dost  ever  shine  : 
I  have  thine  own  dear  pledge  for  this, 

Lord,  Thou  art  ever  mine. 

Mason,  1683. 


I    AM    WITH    THEE 

On  mountains  and  in  valleys, 
Where'er  we  go  is  God  ; 

The  cottage  and  the  palace 
Alike  are  his  abode. 

In  sinking  and  in  soaring,  ■ 
Thought  finds  Him  ever  near,- 

Where  angels  are  adoring, 

Where  fiends  believe  and  fear. 

With  watchful  eye  abiding 
Upon  us  with  delight  : 

Our  souls,  in  Him  confiding, 
He  keeps  both  day  and  night. 


Above  me  and  beside  me. 

My  God  is  ever  near, — 
To  watch,  protect,  and  guide  me, 

Whatever  ills  appear. 


54 


LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 


Though  other  friends  may  fail  me 

In  sorrow's  dark  abode, — 
Though  death  itself  assail  me, 

I'm  ever  safe  with  God. 

From  the  Dutch. 


LIGHT    OUT    OF    DARKNESS. 

God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way 
His  wonders  to  perform  ; 

He  plants  his  footsteps  in  the  sea, 
And  rides  upon  the  storm. 

Deep  in  unfathomable  mines 

Of  never-failing  skill, 
He  treasures  up  his  bright  designs, 

And  works  his  sov'reign  will. 


Ye  fearful  saints,  fresh  courage  take. 

The  clouds  ye  so  much  dread 
Are  big  with  mercy,  and  shall  break 

In  blessings  on  your  head. 

Judge  not  the  Lord  by  feeble  sense. 

But  trust  Him  for  his  grace  : 
Behind  a  frowning  providence 

He  hides  a  smiling  face. 


56  LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 

His  purposes  will  ripen  fast, 
Unfolding  every  hour; 

The  bud  may  have  a  bitter  taste, 
But  sweet  will  be  the  flower. 

Blind  unbelief  is  sure  to  err, 
And  scan  his  work  in  vain  : 

God  is  his  own  interpreter, 
And  He  will  make  it  plain. 


Newton. 


IT    IS   WELL. 

Beloved,  "  it  is  well  ! " 

God's  ways  are  always  right ; 
And  love  is  o'er  them  all, 

Though  far  above  our  sight. 
Beloved,  "it  is  well  !" 

Though  deep  and  sore  the  smart, 
He  wounds,  who  knows  to  bind 

And  heal  the  broken  heart. 


Beloved,  "it  is  well !" 

Though  sorrow  clouds  our  way, 
'Twill  make  the  joy  more  dear 

That  ushers  in  the  day. 
Beloved,  "it  is  well!" 

The  path  that  Jesus  trod, 
Though  rough  and  dark  it  be, 

Leads  home  to  heaven  and  God. 

Anon. 


ALL    IN    GOD. 

O  loved,  but  not  enough; — though  dearer  far 
Than  self,  and  its  most  loved  enjoyments  are  ! 
None  duly  loves  Thee,  but  who,  nobly  free 
From  sensual  objects,  finds  his  all  in  Thee. 

Glorious,  Almighty,  First,  and  without  end  ! 
When  wilt  Thou  melt  the  mountains  and  descend  1 
When  wilt  Thou  shoot  abroad  thy  conquering  rays, 
And  teach  these  atoms  Thou  hast  made  thy  praise  ! 

Guion. 


DIVINE    COMPANIONSHIP. 


When  quiet  in  my  house  I  sit, 
Thy  book  be  my  companion  still, 

My  joy  thy  sayings  to  repeat, — 
Talk  o'er  the  records  of  thy  will, 

And  search  the  oracles  divine, 

Till  every  heart-felt  word  be  mine. 

0  may  the  gracious  words  divine 
Subject  of  all  my  converse  be  ; 

So  will  the  Lord  his  follower  join, 

And  walk  and  talk  himself  with  me 
So  shall  my  heart  his  presence  prove, 
And  burn  with  everlasting  love. 

Oft  as  I  lay  me  down  to  rest, 
O  may  the  reconciling  word 

Sweetly  compose  my  wea'ry  breast ! 
While  on  the  bosom  of  my  Lord 

1  sink  in  blissful  dreams  away, — 
And  visions  of  eternal  day. 


6o 


L  YRA  CONS  OLA  TIONIS. 


Rising  to  sing  my  Saviour's  praise, 
Thee  may  I  publish  all  day  long ; 

And  let  thy  precious  word  of  grace 

Flow  from  my  heart  and  fill  my  tongue  ! 

Fill  all  my  life  with  purest  love, 

And  join  me  to  the  church  above. 

Wesley. 


WITHIN    SIGHT    OF    CAXAAX. 

O  Israel,  who  is  like  to  thee  ? 
A  people  saved,  and  called  to  be 

Peculiar  to  the  Lord  ! 
Thy  shield  !  He  guards  thee  from  the  foe 
Thy  sword  !  He  fights  thy  battles  too, 

Himself  thy  great  reward. 

Thy  toils  have  almost  reached  a  close. 
Thou  soon  art  destined  to  repose 

Within  the  promised  land  : 
Its  rising  hills  ev'n  now  are  seen 
Enrich' d  with  everlasting  green, 

Where  thou  so  soon  shalt  stand. 


Sweet  hope  !  it  makes  the  coward  brave, 
It  makes  a  freeman  of  the  slave. 

And  bids  the  sluggard  rise ; 
It  lifts  a  worm  of  earth  on  high, 
It  gives  him  wings,  and  bids  him  fly 

To  everlasting  joys.  Anox. 


THE    DEATH    OF    MOSES. 

Sweet  was  the  journey  to  the  sky 

The  holy  prophet  tried  ; 
"  Climb  up  the  mount,"  said  God,  "  and  die  '" 

The  prophet  climbed,  and  died. 

Softly,  with  fainting  head,  he  lay 

Upon  his  Maker's  breast ; 
His  Maker  soothed  his  soul  away, 

And  laid  his  flesh  to  rest. 


In  God's  own  arms  he  left  the  breath 

That  God's  own  Spirit  gave ; 
His  was  the  noblest  road  to  death, 

And  his  the  sweetest  grave. 

Watts. 


IT   WILL   SOON   BE   WELL. 

My  span  of  life  will  soon  be  done, 

The  passing  moments  say ; 
As  lengthening  shadows  o'er  the  plain 

Proclaim  the  close  of  day. 
Soon  will  the  toilsome  strife  be  o'er 

Of  weariness  and  care  ; 
And  life's  dull  vanities  no  more 

This  anxious  heart  ensnare. 


Courage,  my  soul  !  thy  bitter  cross, 

In  every  trial  here, 
Shall  bear  thee  to  thy  heaven  above, 

But  shall  not  enter  there. 
Courage,  my  soul !   on  God  rely, 

Deliverance  soon  shall  come  ; 
A  thousand  ways  thy  Saviour  has 

To  bring  his  people  home. 

Mrs.  Cowper, 

Aunt  of  the  Poet. 


IT    IS    THE    LORD. 

It  is  the  Lord — enthroned  in  light, 

Whose  claims  are  all  divine  ; 
Who  has  an  undisputed  right 

To  govern  me  and  mine. 
It  is  the  Lord — should  I  distrust 

Or  contradict  his  will, 
Who  cannot  do  but  what  is  just, 

And  must  be  righteous  still  1 


It  is  the  Lord — who  gives  me  all, — 

My  wealth,  my  friends,  my  ease  ; 
And  of  his  bounties  may  recall 

Whatever  part  He  please. 
It  is  the  Lord — who  can  sustain 

Beneath  the  heaviest  load  : 
From  whom  assistance  I  obtain, 

To  tread  the  thorny  road. 


IT  IS  THE  LORD. 


65 


It  is  the  Lord — whose  matchless  skill 

Can  from  afflictions  raise 
Blessings,  eternity  to  fill 

With  ever-growing  praise. 
It  is  the  Lord — my  covenant  God — 

Thrice  blessed  be  his  name, 
Whose  gracious  promise,  seal'd  with  blood, 

Must  ever  be  the  same. 

Greene. 


THE    PARTING   AND    THE   MEETING. 


When  friend  from  friend  is  parting, 

And  in  each  speaking  eye 
The  silent  tears  are  starting, 

To  tell  what  words  deny, — 
How  could  we  bear  the  heavy  load 

Of  such  heart-agony, 
Could  we  not  cast  it  all,  our  God, 

Our  gracious  God,  on  Thee  ; 
And  feel  that  Thou  kind  watch  wilt  keep 

When  we  are  far  away, — 
That  Thou  wilt  soothe  us  when  we  weep, 

And  hear  us  when  we  pray  1 


Yet  oft  these  hearts  will  whisper — 

That  better  'twould  betide, 
If  we  were  near  the  friends  we  love, 

And  watching  by  their  side. 
But  sure  thou'lt  love  them  dearer,  Lord, 

For  trusting  Thee  alone, 


THE  PARTING  AXD  THE  MEETING.    67 

And  sure  Thou  wilt  draw  nearer,  Lord, 
The  farther  we  are  gone. 

1 

Then  why  be  sad,  since  Thou  wilt  keep 

Watch  o'er  them  day  by  day ; 
Since  Thou  wilt  soothe  them  when  they  weep, 

And  hear  us  when  we  pray  ? 

O  for  that  bright  and  happy  land, 

Where,  far  amid  the  blest, 
The  wicked  cease  from  troubling,  and 

The  weary  are  at  rest ! 
Where  friends  are  never  parted, 

Once  met  around  thy  throne ; 
And  none  are  broken-hearted, 

Since  all  with  Thee  are  one  ! 
Yet,  Oh,  till  then,  watch  o'er  us  keep, 

When  far  from  Thee  away, 
And  soothe  us,  Lord,  oft  as  we  weep, 

And  hear  us  when  we  pray. 

MONSELL. 


ALL    IS    WELL. 

If  my  bark  be  strong, 

If  my  anchor  sure, 
Then  let  billow  upon  billow  beat ; 

Am  I  not  secure  1 
On  the  dreariest,  wildest  sea, 
What  are  winds  to  me  ? 


Up  between  the  stars 

Spreads  night's  tranquil  blue  ; 
Not  one  ruffle,  not  one  wrinkle  there 

Blots  the  changeless  hue. 
Storms  of  earth  for  earth  are  given  ; 
But  they  reach  not  heaven  ! 

To  that  heaven  I  go, 

To  that  starland  bright, 
Where  the  sea  is  ever  smooth  and  fair. 

And  the  sky  all  bright ; 
Never  heavy,  pale,  or  dull ; — 
Starland  beautiful  ! 


ALL  IS   WELL. 


69 


Therefore  am  I  calm ; 

Peace  and  love  within. 
That  dear  light,  that  on  me  gently  falls. 

Casts  out  fear  and  sin. 
As  my  home  above  is.  so 
Am  I  now  below. 

H.   Bonar 


PRAISE    FOR   THE    HOPE    OF   GLORY. 

I  sojourn  in  a  vale  of  tears ; 

Alas,  how  can  I  sing  ! 
My  harp  doth  on  the  willows  hang. 

Distuned  in  every  string. 
My  music  is  a  captive's  chains, 

Harsh  sounds  my  ears  do  fill ; 
How  shall  I  sing  sweet  Zion's  song 

On  this  side  Zion's  hill  ? 

Yet  lo,  I  hear  a  joyful  sound, 

"  Surely  I  quickly  come  ;" 
Each  word  much  sweetness  doth  distil, 

Like  a  full  honey-comb. 
And  dost  Thou  come,  my  dearest  Lord  % 

And  dost  Thou  surely  come  1 
And  dost  Thou  surely  quickly  come  1 

Methinks  I  am  at  home. 


Come  then,  my  dearest,  dearest  Lord, 
My  sweetest,  surest  friend  ; 


PRAISE  FOR  THE  HOPE  OF  GLORY.     71 

Come,  for  I  loathe  these  Kedar  tents  ; 

Thy  fiery  chariots  send. 
What  have  I  here  1     My  thoughts  and  joys 

Are  all  pack'd  up  and  gone ; 
My  eager  soul  would  follow  them 

To  thine  eternal  throne. 

What  have  I  in  this  barren  land  1 

My  Jesus  is  not  here  ; 
Mine  eyes  will  ne'er  be  blest  until 

My  Jesus  doth  appear. 
My  Jesus  is  gone  up  to  heav'n, 

To  get  a  place  for  me ; 
For  'tis  his  will  that  where  He  is, 

There  should  his  servants  be. 


Canaan  I  view  from  Pisgah's  top ; 

Of  Canaan's  grapes  I  taste ; 
My  Lord,  who  sends  unto  me  here, 

Will  send  for  me  at  last. 
I  have  a  God  that  change th  not, 

* 

Why  should  I  be  perpiext  ? 
My  God,  that  owns  me  in  this  world. 
Will  own  me  in  the  next. 


72  LYRA   CONSOLATIONIS. 

Go  fearless,  then,  my  soul,  with  God, 

Into  another  room ; 
Thou,  who  hast  walked  with  Him  here, 

Go  see  thy  God  at  home. 
View  death  with  a  believing  eye, 

It  hath  an  angel's  face ; 
And  this  kind  angel  will  prefer 

Thee  to  an  angel's  place. 

The  grave  is  but  a  fining  pot 

Unto  believing  eyes  : 
For  there  the  flesh  shall  lose  its  dross, 

And  like  the  sun  shall  rise. 
The  world,  which  I  have  known  too  well, 

Hath  mock'd  me  with  its  lies ; 
How  gladly  could  I  leave  behind 

Its  vexing  vanities  1 


My  dearest  friends  they  dwell  above, 

Them  will  I  go  to  see ; 
And  all  my  friends  in  Christ  below 

Will  soon  come  after  me. 
Fear  not  the  trump's  earth-rending  sound, 

Dread  not  the  day  of  doom  ; 


PRAISE  FOR  THE  HOPE  OF  GLORY.     73 

For  He,  that  is  to  be  thy  judge, 
Thy  Saviour  is  become. 

Blest  be  my  God  that  gives  me  light. 

Who  in  the  dark  did  grope ; 
Blest  be  my  God,  the  God  of  love, 

Who  causeth  me  to  hope. 
Here's  the  Word's  signet,  Comfort's  staff. 

And  here  is  Grace's  chain  ; 
By  these  thy  pledges,  Lord,  I  know 
My  hopes  are  not  in  vain. 

J.  Mason. 


->X 


SAVIOUR    BE    NEAR. 

My  Saviour,  be  Thou  near  me 

Through  life's  night ; 

I  cry,  and  Thou  wilt  hear  me, — 
Be  my  light ! 

My  dim  sight  aching, 

Gently  Thou'rt  making 

Meet  for  awaking 

Where  all  is  bright  ! 


Oh,  through  time's  swelling  ocean 

Be  my  Guide  ! 
From  tempest's  wild  commotion 

Hide,  O  hide  ! 
Life's  crystal  river 
Storms  ruffle  never ; 
Anchor  me  ever 

On  that  calm  tide  ! 

M.  L.  Duncan. 


',7fS^  ^;    ."    f  r 


MY    PILGRIMAGE. 

What  is  this  life  ?     A  constant  scene 
Of  sighs  and  tears,  of  care  and  pain. 

Moments  of  sin  and  months  of  woe 
Here  ebb  and  flow. 

Till  we  are  summoned  hence  to  go. 

And  what  is  man  ?     A  clod  of  earth, 
A  needy  mortal  from  his  birth  : 

Brought  nothing  with  him  when  he  came. 
But  sin  and  shame, 

And  naked  leaves  this  earthly  frame. 


Evil  and  few  have  been  my  .days, 
Weary  and  sad  my  pilgrim-ways, 

When  God  shall  call  his  sen-ant  home, 
I'll  seek  the  tomb, 

In  hope  of  endless  joys  to  come. 


76 


LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 


Amen  !  Thou  sovereign  God  of  love 

Grant  us  thy  bliss  when  we  remove ; 

That  we,  redeemed  by  thy  blood, 

May  find  in  God 
Our  everlasting  sure  abode. 

Moravian. 


MY    REDEEMER    LIVETH. 


"  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  lives,'' 
What  comfort  that  sweet  sentence  gives  ! 
He  lives  !  He  lives  '.  who  once  was  dead 
He  lives,  my  everlasting  Head  ! 
He  lives,  triumphant  from  the  grave  : 
He  lives,  eternally  to  save. 


He 
He 
He 
He 
He 
He 


li\ 
liv 
liv 


li\ 
liv 
liv 


es,  all  glorious  in  the  sky ; 
res,  exalted  there  on  high  : 
es,  to  bless  me  with  his  love  ; 
es,  to  plead  my  cause  above ; 
es,  to  upbind  and  make  me  whole ; 
es,  to  calm  my  troubled  soul. 


He  lives,  to  grant  me  rich  supply ; 
He  lives,  to  guard  me  with  his  eye  ; 
He  lives,  my  hungry'  soul  to  feed ; 
He  lives,  to  help  in  time  of  need ; 
He  lives,  that  He  may  in  me  dwell ; 
He  lives,  to  crush  the  powers  of  hell. 


78  LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 

He  lives,  to  silence  all  my  fears ; 

He  lives,  to  stop  and  dry  my  tears ; 

He  lives,  my  kind,  wise,  heavenly  friend ; 

He  lives,  and  loves  me  to  the  end ; 

He  lives,  my  Prophet,  Priest,  and  King ; 

He  lives,  and  while  He  lives,  I'll  sing. 

He  lives,  to  grant  me  daily  breath ; 
He  lives,  and  I  shall  conquer  death ; 
He  lives,  my  mansion  to  prepare ; 
He  lives,  to  bring  me  safely  there. 
0  the  sweet  joy  this  sentence  gives — 
"  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  lives  !" 

Anon. 


l£ 


si 


THE   WAYS    OF    GOD. 

Thy  ways,  O  Lord  !  with  wise  design, 
Are  framed  upon  thy  throne  above ; 

And  every  dark  or  bending  line 
Meets  in  the  centre  of  thy  love. 

With  feeble  light,  and  half  obscure, 
Poor  mortals  thy  arrangements  view ; 

Not  knowing  that  the  least  are  sure, 
The  most  mysterious  just  and  true. 

My  favoured  soul  shall  meekly  learn 
To  lay  her  reason  at  thy  throne  : 

Too  weak  thy  secrets  to  discern, 
I'll  trust  Thee  for  my  guide  alone. 


Anon. 


WHO    ARE    THESE    AND    WHENCE 
CAME    THEY? 

Not  from  Jerusalem  alone, 
To  heaven  the  path  ascends ; 

As  near,  as  sure,  as  straight  the  way 
That  leads  to  the  celestial  day, 
From  farthest  realms  extends  ; 
Frigid  or  torrid  zone. 

What  matters  how  or  whence  we  start  ? 
One  is  the  crown  to  all ; 

One  is  the  hard  but  glorious  race, 
Whatever  be  our  starting-place  ; — 
Rings  round  the  earth  the  call 
That  says,  Arise,  depart ! 

From  the  balm-breathing,  sun-loved  isles 
Of  the  bright  southern  sea, 

From  the  dead  north's  cloud-shadow'd  pole, 
We  gather  to  one  gladsome  goal, — 
One  common  home  in  thee, 
City  of  sun  and  smiles  ! 


WHO  ARE  THESE  ? 

The  cold  rough  billow  hinders  none  ; 
Nor  helps  the  calm,  fair  main ; 

The  brown  rock  of  Norwegian  gloom, 
The  verdure  of  Tahitian  bloom, 
The  sands  of  Mizraim's  plain, 
Or  peaks  of  Lebanon. 

As  from  the  green  lands  of  the  vine, 
So  from  the  snow-wastes  pale, 
We  find  the  ever-open  road 
To  the  dear  city  of  our  God ; 
From  Russian  steppe,  or  Burman  vale, 
Or  terraced  Palestine. 

Not  from  swift  Jordan's  sacred  stream 
Alone  we  mount  above  ; 

Indus  or  Danube,  Thames  or  Rhone, 
Rivers  unsainted  and  unknown  ; — 
From  each  the  home  of  love 
Beckons  with  heavenly  gleam. 


81 


Not  from  gray  Olivet  alone 
We  see  the  gates  of  light ; 

From  Morven's  heath  or  Jungfrau's  snow 
We  welcome  the  descending  glow 


82  LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 

Of  pearl  and  chrysolite, 
And  the  unsetting  sun. 

Not  from  Jerusalem  alone 
The  Church  ascends  to  God ; 

Strangers  of  every  tongue  and  clime, 
Pilgrims  of  every  land  and  time, 
Throng  the  well-trodden  road 
That  leads  up  to  the  throne. 

H.  Bonar. 


RESTING   IN   HOPE. 

Jesus,  I  cast  my  soul  on  Thee, 
Mighty  and  merciful  to  save ; 

Thou  wilt  to  death  go  down  with  me, 
And  gently  lay  me  in  the  grave. 

This  body  then  shall  rest  in  hope, — 
This  body  which  the  wonns  destroy ; 

For  surely  Thou  wilt  bring  me  up 
To  glorious  life  and  endless  joy. 

Anon. 


THE   JOYS    OF    HEAVEN. 

Far  from  these  narrow  scenes  of  night, 

Unbounded  glories  rise, 
And  realms  of  infinite  delight, 

Unknown  to  mortal  eyes. 
Fair  distant  land,  could  mortal  eyes 

But  half  its  joys  explore, 
How  would  our  spirits  long  to  rise, 

And  dwell  on  earth  no  more  ! 

There  pain  and  sickness  never  come, 

And  grief  no  more  complains; 
Health  triumphs  in  immortal  bloom, 

And  endless  pleasure  reigns. 
No  cloud  these  blissful  regions  know, 

For  ever  bright  and  fair ; 
For  sin,  the  source  of  mortal  woe, 

Can  never  enter  there. 


There  no  alternate  night  is  known, 
Nor  sun's  faint  sickly  ray, 


THE  JOYS  OF  HE  A  VEN. 


§5 


But  glory  from  the  sacred  throne 

Spreads  everlasting  day. 
Oh,  may  the  heavenly  prospect  fire 

Our  hearts  with  ardent  love, 
Till  wings  of  faith  and  strong  desire 

Bear  every  thought  above. 


Steele. 


DEATH    OF   SAINTS. 

Man's  life's  a  sigh,  a  groan,  a  cry, 
Looks  up,  and  then  begins  to  die ; 
Death  steals  upon  us  while  we're  green, 
Behind  us  digs  a  grave  unseen. 

But  oh,  how  great  a  mercy's  this, 
That  death's  a  portal  into  bliss  ! 
While  yet  the  body's  scarce  undrest, 
The  soul  is  slipt  into  its  rest ! 

My  soul  !  death  swallows  up  thy  fears, 
Thy  grave-clothes  dry  off  all  thy  tears  ; 
Why  should  we  fear  this  parting  pain, 
Who  die  that  we  may  live  again. 


Who  walk  below  in  light  and  love, 
Are  sure  to  live  with  Christ  above ; 
A  bosom  heaven  will  afford 
To  those  that  live  unto  the  Lord. 


DEATH  OF  SAINTS.  87 

O  how  the  resurrection  light 
Will  clarify  believers'  sight  ! 
How  joyful  will  the  saints  arise, 
And  rub  the  dust  from  off  their  eyes  ! 

My  soul,  my  body,  I  will  trust 
With  Him  who  numbers  every  dust ; 
My  Saviour  faithfully  will  keep 
His  own ;  and  death  is  but  a  sleep. 

J.  Mason. 


SLEEP  IN  JESUS. 

Death  steals  upon  us  unawares, 

And  digs  a  grave  unseen, 
Whilst  we  dispute,  are  full  of  cares, 

What  may  be,  what  has  been. 
Shall  I  be  bent  on  vanity, 

And  rottenness  to  trust, 
Till  death  shall  lay  his  hand  on  me, 

And  crumble  me  to  dust? 


What  if  my  sun  should  set  at  noon  ? 

If  death  should  call  to-day, 
Canst  thou,  my  soul,  go  off  so  soon  ? 

Hast  thou  no  scores  to  pay  1 
Behold  my  sands,  how  quick  they  run, 

How  near  I  am  my  goal ; 
Let  not  my  body  be  undressed, 

Till  Thou  hast  dressed  my  soul. 


SLEEP  IN  JESUS.  89 

That  at  the  trumpet's  sound  I  may 

Spring  from  my  dusty  bed, 
Rejoicing  at  the  voice  that  calls, 

Arise,  come  forth,  ye  dead. 
Lord,  give  me  patience  if  I  lie 

Upon  a  dying  bed, 
O  let  my  Saviour,  standing  by, 

Support  my  weary  head. 

Support  my  weak  and  tottering  faith 

While  dismal  fears  annoy  : 
My  Jesus,  be  my  sweet  defence; 

My  Jesus,  be  my  joy. 
Blest  Advocate,  do  Thou  not  fail 

At  this  time  to  appear, 
O  let  my  shaken  faith  prevail, 

My  evidence  be  clear. 

My  soul  in  thy  sweet  hands  I  trust. 

Now  can  I  sweetly  sleep  j 
My  body,  falling  to  the  dust, 

I  leave  with  Thee  to  keep. 

J.  Mason. 


DEAD    AND    RISEN. 

A  son  of  man  the  Son  of  God 
Became,  and  did  not  scorn  ; 

On  earth,  from  Mary's  virgin  womb 
The  holy  child  was  born. 

Let  me  remember  all  that  love, 
Which  in  his  breast  did  burn, 

When  all  the  wrath  of  God  for  sin, 
Upon  his  soul  did  turn  ; 

When  God's  own  well-beloved  Son 
Went  mourning  to  the  grave, 

And  died  accursed  for  sin,  that  grace 
Might  dying  sinners  save. 


See  from  the  dead  the  Prince  of  Life 

In  glory  bright  appears  ; 
No  further  proof  of  love  I'll  seek  ; 

This  quiets  all  my  fears. 


DEAD  AND  RISEN. 


91 


This  bow  of  light  upon  the  cloud 

Sure  token  is  of  grace  ; 
Where  wrath  did  frown,  see  mercy  smiles, 

From  Jesu's  loving  face. 

This  sign  of  love  my  soul  relieves ; 

'Tis  ease  from  all  my  pain  ; 
I  shall  not  blush  to  see  Thee,  God, 

Because  the  Lamb  was  slain. 

Old  Author. 


THE   JOYS   ABOVE. 

O  what  a  glorious  lot  shall  then  be  mine 
When  God  to  me  shall  these  bright  joys  assign  ! 
For  there  the  sovereign  good  for  ever  reigns — 
No  evil  yet  to  come,  no  present  pains  ; 
No  baleful  birth  of  time  its  inmates  fear, 
That  comes,  the  burden  of  the  passing  year  ; 
Oh,  happy  are  the  blessed  souls  that  sing 
Loud  hallelujahs  in  eternal  ring  ! 
Thrice  happy  he,  who  late,  at  last  shall  find 
A  lot  in  the  celestial  climes  assigned  ! 
He,  led  by  grace,  the  auspicious  ford  explores, 
Where  cross  the  plains  the  wintry  torrent  roars ; 
That  troublous  tide,  where,  with  incessant  strife, 
Weak  mortals  struggle  through,  and  call  it  life. 
One  glimpse  of  glory  on  the  saints  bestow'd, 
With  eager  longings  fills  the  courts  of  God 
For  deeper  views,  in  that  abyss  of  light ; 
While  mortals  slumber  here,  content  with  night 
Though  nought  we  find  below  the  moon  can  fill 
The  boundless  cravings  of  the  human  will. 

Petrarch. 


OUR  MOTHER'S  DEATH. 

Silently,  over  land  and  sea. 

Came  down  the  winter's  night : 
Bearing  upon  its  ebon  wings 

A  mantle  purely  white. 

A  spangled  robe,  as  beautiful 

As  the  Immortals  wear ; 
And  over  all  the  land  it  spread 

The  vesture  soft  and  fair. 

Over  the  frozen  river's  breast, 
And  o'er  the  town  'twas  spread ; 

And  o'er  the  monuments  and  mounds 
Above  the  quiet  dead. 


Upon  the  mountain's  lofty  head, 
And  o'er  the  fields  below, 

O  softly,  softly,  every  where, 
Came  down  the  gentle  snow. 


94  LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 

Within  our  peaceful,  sheltered  home, 
Where  all  was  bright  and  warm, 

Was  one  preparing  to  go  forth, 
But  not  into  the  storm. 


A  stranger  to  our  home  had  come, 

A  message  there  to  bring ; 
Our  mother  took  the  scroll,  and  knew 

The  signet  of  the  king. 

The  bitter,  parting  hour  had  come  ! 

Husband,  nor  child,  nor  friend, 
Could  stand  against  the  strangers  power, 

Nor  with  his  will  contend. 

We  gathered  round  our  mother's  bed 
To  catch  her  parting  breath  ; 

But  one  stood  nearer  to  her  heart ; 
We  knew  his  name  was  Death  ! 

And  from  our  love,  and  from  our  grief, 
And  from  our  dwelling  warm, 

He  bore  our  mother  in  his  arms  \ 
But  not  into  the  storm. 


OUR  MOTHER'S  DEATH.  95 

She  went  unseen,  but  not  alone, 

Dear  pilgrim  of  the  earth ; 
For  Jesus  took  her  by  the  hand, 

And  gently  bore  her  forth. 

And  the  sweet  word  she  left  for  us, 
Shall  our  life's  watchword  be  : 

"As  I  have  followed  Jesus'  steps, 
Beloved  ones,  follow  me." 

We  laid  her  body  down  to  sleep, 

Where  all  is  sweet  and  still, 
Where  the  last  rays  of  sunlight  fall 

Upon  the  westward  hill. 

And  precious,  precious  to  our  hearts 

Shall  be  that  sacred  spot, 
While  by  the  Lord  she  loved  so  well 

It  will  not  be  forgot. 

4 

Wasted  and  wan  we  laid  her  down ; 

Worn  out  with  mortal  strife ; 
But  fair  and  glorious  shall  she  rise 

To  glad,  eternal  life. 


96 


L  YRA   CON  SO  LA  TIONIS. 


Oh  !   Heavenly  Father,  teach  us  how 

To  live  and  how  to  die, 
That  we  may  with  our  mother  rise 

To  immortality. 

Augusta  Moore  (American). 


DYING   IN   THE   LORD. 

When  the  glowing  pulse  of  health  is  beating, 

'Tis  hard  to  die ; 
When  friends  surround  me  with  their  earnest  greeting, 

Hoiv  hard  to  die  ! 

Though  sickness  comes,  in  waking  and  in  sleeping, 

'Tis  hard  to  die  ! 
When  true  hearts  look  on  me  with  sighs  and  weeping, 

How  hard  to  die  ! 

But  when  the  sting  of  death  my  Lord  is  stealing, 

'Tis  sweet  to  die  ! 
And  when  my  Saviour  smiles,  his  love  revealing, 

How  sweet  to  die  ! 

4 

When  all  my  sins  my  precious  Lord  is  hiding, 

'Tis  sweet  to  die  ! 
And  when  my  soul  is  to  his  presence  gliding, 

How  sweet  to  die  ! 


H 


98  LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 

Oh,  death  is  ?iow  but  as  a  blessed  river, 

So  sweet  to  die  ; 
It  leads  from  gifts,  up  to  the  glorious  Giver  ; 

So  sweet  to  die  ! 

There  I  shall  see  his  beauteous  face  for  ever, 

Oh,  sweet  to  die  ; 
And  leave  his  presence  nevermore,  no,  never, 

Oh,  sweet  to  die  ! 

D.  H.  E.  (American.) 


WEEP   NOT  FOR   ME. 

When  the  spark  of  life  is  waning, 
Weep  not  for  me  : 

When  the  languid  eye  is  straining, 
Weep  not  for  me  : 

When  the  feeble  pulse  is  ceasing, 

Start  not  at  its  swift  decreasing ; 

'Tis  the  fetter'd  soul's  releasing : 
Weep  not  for  me. 


When  the  pangs  of  death  assail  me, 
Weep  not  for  me  : 

Christ  is  mine, — He  cannot  fail  me, 
Weep  not  for  me  : 

Yes,  though  sin  and  doubt  endeavour 

From  his  love  my  soul  to  sever, 

Jesus  is  my  strength  for  ever ! 
Weep  not  for  me. 

Dale. 


MY  TIMES   ARE  IN   THY   HAND. 

"  My  times  are  in  thy  hand," 
My  God  !  I  wish  them  there  j 
My  life,  my  friends,  my  soul,  I  leave 
Entirely  to  thy  care. 

"  My  times  are  in  thy  hand," 
Whatever  they  may  be  ; 
Pleasing  or  painful,  dark  or  bright, 
As  best  may  seem  to  Thee. 

"  My  times  are  in  thy  hand," 
Why  should  I  doubt  or  fear  ? 
My  Father's  hand  will  never  cause 
His  child  a  needless  tear. 


"  My  times  are  in  thy  hand," — 
Jesus  the  crucified  ! 
The  hand  my  cruel  sins  had  pierced 
Is  now  my  guard  and  guide. 


MY  TIMES  ARE  IN  THY  HAND.      101 

"  My  times  are  in  thy  hand," — 

I'll  always  trust  in  Thee  ; 

And  after  death  at  thy  right  hand 

I  shall  for  ever  be. 

Anon. 


REST  ABOVE. 


Here  I  find  no  rest ; 
By  fierce  pain  opprest, 
And  by  sin  distrest, 

I  am  weary,  weary  ! 

Though  this  world  be  fair, 
Sin  is  ever  there, 
And  its  guilt  I  share  : 

I  am  weary,  weary  ! 

Soon  death's  night  will  come, — 
Where  is  now  the  gloom 
Of  the  silent  tomb  ? 

I  am  weary,  weary  ! 

Christ  hath  died  to  prove 
God's  amazing  love. 
O  for  life  above  ! 

I  am  weaiy,  weary  ! 


REST  ABOVE.  to 

Earth  gives  me  no  pleasure ; 
Heaven  contains  my  treasure, — 
Bliss  in  boundless  measure  : 

I  am  weary,  weary  ! 

Why  should  I  complain  % 
Jesus  suffer' d  pain, 
And  for  me  was  slain  : 

I  am  weary,  weary  ! 

Now,  from  heaven  on  high, 
Christ  hath  heard  my  sigh, 
Mark'd  my  mournful  cry  : 

I  am  weary,  weary  ! 

He  hath  given  me  peace, 
Even  tho'  pains  increase, 
Soon  shall  sorrow  cease  : 

I  am  weary,  weary  ! 

Dawn  thou  heav'nly  light, 
On  my  ravished  sight ; 
All  there's  pure  and  bright ! 

I  am  weary,  weary  ! 

Axon. 


j 


WINGS   LIKE  A   DOVE. 

My  soul,  amid  this  stormy  world> 

Is  like  some  flutter'd  dove ; 
And  fain  would  be  as  swift  of  wing, 

To  flee  to  Him  I  love. 
The  cords  that  bound  my  heart  to  earth 

Are  broken  by  his  hand  : 
Before  his  cross  I  found  myself, 

A  stranger  in  the  land. 


That  visage  marr'd,  those  sorrows  deep, 

The  vinegar  and  gall, 
Were  Jesus'  golden  chains  of  love 

His  captive  to  enthrall ! 
My  heart  is  with  Him  on  his  throne, 

And  ill  can  brook  delay ; 
Each  moment  list'ning  for  the  voice, — 

"  Rise  up  and  come  away." 


WINGS  LIKE  A  DOVE.  105 

With  hope  deferr'd,  oft  sick  and  faint, 

"Why  tarries  He?"   I  cry: 
And  should  my  Saviour  chide  my  haste, 

Sure  I  could  make  reply. 
May  not  an  exile,  Lord,  desire, 

His  own  sweet  land  to  see? 
May  not  a  captive  seek  release, 

A  pris'ner  to  be  free  ? 

A  child,  when  far  away,  may  long 

For  home  and  kindred  dear ; 
And  she  that  wails  her  absent  Lord 

May  sigh  till  he  appear. 
I  would,  my  Lord  and  Saviour,  know, 

That  which  no  measure  knows  ; 
Would  search  the  mystery  of  thy  love, — 

The  depth  of  all  thy  woes. 

Sir  E.  Denny. 


ONWARD. 

We  go  with  the  redeem'd  to  taste 
Of  joy  supreme,  that  never  dies  ; 

Our  feet  still  press  the  weary  waste, 
Our  hearts,  our  home,  are  in  the  skies. 

And  oh  !  while  on  to  Zion's  hill 
The  toilsome  path  of  life  we  tread, 

Around  us,  loving  Father,  still 

Thy  circling  wings  of  mercy  spread. 

From  day  to  day,  from  hour  to  hour, 
Oh  !  let  our  rising  spirits  prove 

The  strength  of  thine  Almighty  pow'r — 
The  sweetness  of  thy  saving  love. 

Anon. 


HOW  LONG? 

My  God.  it  is  not  fretfulness 

That  makes  me  say  "  how  long  ?'' 

It  is  not  heaviness  of  heart 
That  hinders  me  in  song  ; 

'Tis  not  despair  of  truth  and  right, 
Xor  coward  dread  of  wrong. 

But  how  can  I,  with  such  a  hope 

Of  glory  and  of  home  ; 
With  such  a  joy  before  my  eyes, 

Not  wish  the  time  were  come, — 
Of  years  the  jubilee,  of  days 

The  Sabbath  and  the  sum  ? 

These  years,  what  ages  they  have  been  ? 

This  life,  how  long  it  seems  ? 
And  how  can  I,  in  evil  days, 

'Mid  unknown  hills  and  streams, 
But  sigh  for  those  of  home  and  heart, 

And  visit  them  in  dreams  ? 


io8  LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 

Yet  peace,  my  heart,  and  hush,  my  tongue  ; 

Be  calm  my  troubled  breast ; 
Each  restless  hour  is  hastening  on 

The  everlasting  rest  : 
Thou  knowest  that  the  time  thy  God 

Appoints  for  thee,  is  best. 

Let  faith,  not  fear  nor  fretfulness, 

Awake  the  cry,  "  how  long  ?" 
Let  no  faint-heartedness  of  soul 

Damp  thy  aspiring  song  : 
Right  comes,  truth  dawns,  the  night  departs 

Of  error  and  of  wrong. 

H.  Bonar. 


WE   SHALL  ARISE. 


High  lies  the  better  country, 
The  land  of  morning  and  perpetual  spring  ; 
But  graciously  the  warder 
Over  its  mountain-border 
Leans  to  us,  beckoning, — bids  us,  "Come  up  hither !" 
And,  though  we  climb  with  step  unfixed  and  slow, 
From  visioning  heights  of  hope  we  look  off  thither. 
And  we  must  go. 

Beloved  !  beloved  !  not  cloud  and  fire  alone 

From  bondage  and  the  wilderness  restore, 

And  guide  the  wandering  spirit  to  its  own  ; 

But  all  His  elements,  they  go  before  : 

L'pon  its  way  the  seasons  bring, 

And  hearten  with  foreshadowing 

The  resurrection-wonder,  * 
What  lands  of  death  awake  to  sing 
And  germs  of  hope  swell  under  ! 
And  full  and  fine,  and  full  and  fine, 
The  day  distils  life's  golden  wine  ; 


no 


LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 


And  night  is  Palace  Beautiful,  peace-chambered. 
All  things  are  ours  ;  and  life  fills  up  of  them 

Such  measure  as  we  hold. 
For  ours  beyond  the  gate, 

The  deep  things,  the  untold, 

We  only  wait. 

Anon. 


MOUNTAIN  AND  VALLEY. 

Ox  Alpine  heights  the  love  of  God  is  shed ; 
He  plants  the  morning  red, 
The  flowerets  white  and  blue, 
And  feeds  them  with  his  dew. 

On  Alpine  heights  a  loving  Father  dwells. 

On  Alpine  heights,  o'er  many  a  fragrant  heath, 
The  loveliest  breezes  breathe ; 
So  free  and  pure  the  air, 
His  breath  seems  floating  there. 

On  Alpine  heights  a  loving  Father  dwells. 


On  Alpine  heights,  beneath  his*  mild  blue  eye. 

Still  vales  and  meadows  lie  ; 

The  soaring  glacier's  ice 

Gleams  like  a  paradise. 
On  Alpine  heights  a  loving  Father  dwells. 


ii2  LYRA    CONSOLATIONIS. 

Down  Alpine  heights  the  silvery  streamlets  flow, 

There  the  bold  chamois  go  ; 

On  giddy  crags  they  stand, 

And  drink  from  his  own  hand. 
On  Alpine  heights  a  loving  Father  dwells. 

On  Alpine  heights,  in  troops  all  white  as  snow, 

The  sheep  and  wild  goats  go  ; 

There,  in  the  solitude, 

He  fills  their  heart  with  food. 
On  Alpine  heights  a  loving  Father  dwells. 

On  Alpine  heights  the  herdsman  tends  his  herd  ; 

His  shepherd  is  the  Lord  ; 

For  He  who  feeds  the  sheep 

Will  sure  his  offspring  keep. 
On  Alpine  heights  a  loving  Father  dwells. 

Krummacher. 


THE  GUEST. 

Speechless  sorrow  sat  with  me  ; 
I  was  sighing  wearily  ! 
Lamp  and  fire  were  out ;  the  rain 
Wildly  beat  the  window  pane. 
In  the  dark  we  heard  a  knock, 
And  a  hand  was  on  the  lock  ; 
One  in  waiting  spake  to  me, 

Saying  sweetly, 
"  I  am  come  to  sup  with  thee  !" 


All  my  room  was  dark  and  damp  ; 
"  Sorrow,"  said  I,  "  trim  the  lamp  ; 
Light  the  fire,  and  cheer  thy  face  ; 
Set  the  guest-chair  in  its  place." 
And  again  I  heard  the  knock  : 
In  the  dark  I  found  the  lock — 
"  Enter,  I  have  turned  the  key  ! 

Enter,  stranger, 
Who  art  come  to  sup  with  me  ! " 


H4 


LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 


Opening  wide  the  door  He  came  ; 
But  I  could  not  speak  his  name  ; 
In  the  guest-chair  took  his  place, 
But  I  could  not  see  his  face  ; 
When  my  cheerful  fire  was  beaming, 
When  my  little  lamp  was  gleaming. 
And  the  feast  was  spread  for  three, 

Lo  !  my  Master 
Was  the  guest  that  supped  with  me  ! 

Harriet  M'Ewen  Kimball. 


ARISE. 


Arise, 
My  soul,  arise  ! 
Sing  with  thy  latest  breath 
Christ's  conquest  over  death. 
Arise, 
My  soul,  arise  ! 
Sing  it  unto  the  skies. 
Sing  it  over  the  earth  and  under  • 
There,  'mongst  the  myriad  graves 
Of  kings  or  slaves, 
Let  the  song  pierce  their  urns  asunder. 
Arise, 
Our  souls,  arise  ! 
In  heaven,  the  angel-band 
Stand  ready,  in  each  hantl 

A  palm  to  wave  ; 
On  earth,  a  listening  throng 
Wait  the  redeeming  song, 
Their  souls  to  save. 


n6 


LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 


Below,  all  silently, 

The  dead  attend  the  cry  : 

O  grave  ! 
Where  is  thy  victory  % 

The  branches  wave  ; 
Our  Lord  hath  risen  on  high  ! 

O  death  ! 
Where  is  thy  sting  1 

The  dust  beneath 
Stirs  while  we  sing. 
O  grave  !  where  is  thy  victory  1 
O  death  !  where  is  thy  sting  1 
Arise, 
Our  souls,  arise  ! 

Mrs.  Sarah  Flower  Adams. 


WHOM   HAVING   NOT   SEEN  YE  LOVE. 

How  strange  is  Heavenly  Love  ! 

I  never  saw  his  face, 
I  never  trod  his  courts  above, 

I  have  but  known  his  grace, 
Yet  my  affections  cling 

To  his  beloved  side, 
I  feel  He  is  my  God,  my  King, 

And  I  his  ransomed  bride. 

How  strong  is  Heavenly  Love  ! 

Stronger  than  ought  below, 
Though  wide  and  wild  my  passions  rove, 

I  will  not  let  Him  go  ; 
What  though  I  see  Him  not, 

I  feel  the  ardour  burn, 
He  hath  for  me  the  victory  wrought, 

I  love  Him  in  return. 


How  sweet  is  Heavenly  Love  ! 
'Tis  all  in  all  to  me, 


u8 


LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 


I  muse  on  Him  in  field  and  grove, 

Or  sailing  o'er  the  sea. 
I  walk  with  Jesus  here 

Not  lonely  though  alone, 
Till  in  his  presence  I  appear, 

And  know  as  I  am  known. 


Anon. 


HASTE  NOT— REST   XOT. 

"Without  haste  !  without  rest !" 
Bind  the  motto  to  thy  breast ! 
Bear  it  with  thee  as  a  spell ; 
Storm  or  sunshine,  guard  it  well ; 
Heed  not  flowers  that  round  thee  bloom- 
Bear  it  onward  to  the  tomb  ! 

Haste  not — let  no  thoughtless  deed 
Mar  fore'er  the  spirit's  speed ; 
Ponder  well  and  know  the  right, 
Onward  then  with  all  thy  might : 
Haste  not — years  can  ne'er  atone 
For  one  reckless  action  done  ! 


Rest  not  ! — life  is  sweeping  by, 
Go  and  dare  before  you  die ; 
Something  mighty  and  sublime 
Leave  behind  to  conquer  time  ; 


120  LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 

Glorious  'tis  to  live  for  aye 

When  these  forms  have  passed  away. 

"  Haste  not  ! — rest  not !"     Calmly  wait ; 

Meekly  bear  the  storms  of  fate  ; 

Duty  be  thy  polar  guide  j 

Do  the  right,  whate'er  betide  ! 

Haste  not ! — rest  not  !     Conflicts  past, 

God  shall  crown  thy  work  at  last ! 

Goethe. 


OUR  REST. 

My  feet  are  worn  and  weary  with  the  march 
Over  rough  roads  and  up  the  steep  hill-side ; 

Oh,  city  of  our  God,  I  fain  would  see 

Thy  pastures  green,  where  peaceful  waters  glide. 

My  hands  are  weary,  labouring,  toiling  on, 

Day  after  day,  for  perishable  meat ; 
Oh,  city  of  our  God,  I  fain  would  rest ; 

I  sigh  to  gain  thy  glorious  mercy-seat. 

My  garments,  travel-worn  and  stained  with  dust, 
Oft  rent  by  briars  and  thorns  that  crowd  my  way, 

Would  fain  be  made,  O  Lord,  my  righteousness, 
Spotless  and  white  in  heaven's  unclouded  ray. 


My  eyes  are  weary  looking  at  the  sin, 
Impiety,  and  scorn  upon  the  earth ; 

Oh,  city  of  our  God,  within  thy  walls, 

All,  all  are  clothed  upon  with  the  new  birth. 


122 


LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 


My  heart  is  weary  of  its  own  deep  sin — 
Sinning,  repenting,  sinning  still  alway; 

When  shall  my  soul  thy  glorious  presence  feel, 
And  find  its  guilt,  dear  Saviour,  washed  away  ? 

Patience,  poor  soul ;  the  Saviour's  feet  were  worn  ; 

The  Saviour's  heart  and  hands  were  weary  too ; 
His  garments  stained  and  travel-worn  and  old, 

His  sacred  eyes  blinded  with  tears  for  you. 

Love  thou  the  path  of  sorrow  that  he  trod  ; 

Toil  on,  and  wait  in  patience  for  thy  rest ; 
Oh,  city  of  our  God,  we  soon  shall  see 

Thy  glorious  walls,  home  of  the  loved  and  blest. 

S.  Roberts. 


WE  WOULD   SEE  JESUS  ! 

We  would  see  Jesus — for  the  shadows  lengthen 

Across  the  little  landscape  of  our  life  : 
We  would  see  Jesus,  our  weak  faith  to  strengthen 
For  the  last  weariness,  the  final  strife. 

We  would  see  Jesus — for  life's  hand  hath  rested, 
With  its  dark  touch  upon  both  heart  and  brow, 

And  though  our  souls  have  many  a  billow  breasted 
Others  are  rising  in  the  distance  now. 

We  would  see  Jesus — other  lights  are  paling 
.  Which  for  long  years  we  have  rejoiced  to  see  ; 
The  blessings  of  our  pilgrimage  are  failing, 
We  will  not  mourn  them — for  we  go  to  thee. 


We  would  see  Jesus — the  great  rock  foundation 
Whereon  our  feet  were  set  by  sovereign  grace ; 

Not  life,  nor  death,  with  all  their  agitation 
Can  thence  remove  us  if  we  see  his  face.  * 


124 


LYRA    CONSOLATIONIS. 


We  would  see  Jesus — yet  the  spirit  lingers 
Round  the  dear  objects  it  has  loved  so  long, 

And  earth  from  earth  can  scarce  unclose  its  fingers  j 
Our  love  to  Thee  makes  not  this  love  less  strong. 

We  would  see  Jesus — sense  is  all  too  blinding, 
And  heaven  appears  too  dim,  too  far  away. 

We  would  see  Thee,  to  gain  a  sweet  reminding 
That  Thou  hast  promised  our  great  debt  to  pay. 

We  would  see  Jesus — this  is  all  we're  needing, 
Strength,  joy,  and  willingness  come  with  the  sight; 

We  would  see  Jesus,  dying,  risen,  pleading, 
Then  welcome  day  and  farewell  mortal  night. 

American. 


A  BROKEN  HEART. 

Oh  !  blessed  be  the  heart  that  breaks  ! 

It  is  a  broken  heart  that  wins 
The  fellowship  of  Him  who  takes 

Our  sorrows  with  our  sins  ! 

As  many  a  flower  has  blown  and  blush'd, 
Yet  ne'er  its  hidden  sweets  distill'd 

Until  its  bleeding  leaves  were  crush' d, 
And  gather'd  dews  were  spill'd  ; 

So  many  a  heart,  that  ne'er  requites 
Its  Father's  love,  perchance  may  need 

That  He  should  pluck  its  green  delights, 
Or  bruise  it  so  it  bleed  ! 


Oft,  thus,  what  we  had  thought  to  keep, 
He  takes — to  make  it  ours  the  more ; 

And  calls  our  heavy  eyes  to  weep 
That  ne'er  knew  tears  before : 


126 


LYRA    CONSOLATIONIS. 


Or  warns  us  first  with  wounding  dart, 

Then  smites  us  with  his  chastening  rod  ; 

Till,  when  we  have  a  broken  heart, 

We  yield  it  up  to  God  ! 

T.  T. 


EVENING  SONG  AFTER  A  DAY  OF 
DIFFICULTY. 

Lord,  a  happy  child  of  thine, 

Patient  through  the  love  of  Thee, 

In  the  light,  the  life  divine, 
Lives,  and  walks  at  liberty. 

Leaning  on  thy  tender  care, 
Thou  hast  led  my  soul  aright ; 

Fervent  was  my  morning  prayer, 
Joyful  is  my  song  to-night. 

Oh,  my  Saviour,  Guardian  true, 
All  my  life  is  thine  to  keep ; 

At  thy  feet  my  work  I  do, 
In  thy  arms  I  fall  asleep. 

Tender  mercies  on  my  way, 
Falling  softly  like  the  dew, 

Sent  me  freshly  every  day, 
I  will  bless  the  Lord  for  you. 


128  LYRA   CONSOLATIONIS. 

Though  I  have  not  all  I  would, 
Though  to  greater  bliss  I  go, 

Every  present  gift  of  good 
To  eternal  love  I  owe. 

Source  of  all  that  comforts  me, 
Well  of  joy  for  which  I  long, 

Let  the  song  I  sing  to  thee, 
Be  an  everlasting  song. 

Mrs.  Waring. 


LIKE   CHRIST. 

Be  it  my  anxious  care  to  know 
If  more  like  Christ  I  daily  grow, 

If  He,  my  Lord,  dwell  in  my  heart. 
If  ever  towards  the  mark  I  press, 

And  never  from  his  path  depart. 

If  still  in  Christ  I  walk  and  live, 
If  as  a  goodly  branch  I  thrive, 

And  draw  from  Jesus  strength  and  power 
If  when  my  heart  is  sore  distressed, 
When  it  complains,  with  grief  oppressed. 

I  come  to  Christ  at  every7  hour. 

If  I  neglect  through  carelessness 
My  duty,  or  through  weariness, 

Or  my  frail  heart  inconstant  be  : 
If  I,  each  day,  all  outward  sin, 
And  treachery  that  lurks  within, 

Repent  in  all  sincerity. 


K 


130 


LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 


If  Christ  to  me  is  all  in  all ; 
If  still,  whate'er  on  earth  befall, 

My  source  of  blessedness  is  this, 
Beneath  his  gracious  smile  to  live. 
If  evermore  I  wrestling  strive, 

To  be  the  Lord's  and  only  his. 

Tholuck. 


fefe*, 


Ov 


tbrth^ 


"SHE   IS   NOT   DEAD,   BUT   SLEEPETH." 

The  baby  wept ; 
The  mother  took  it  from  the  nurse's  arms, 
And  soothed  its  griefs,  and  still'd  its  vain  alarms, 

And  baby  slept. 

Again  it  weeps, 
And  God  doth  take  it  from  the  mother's  arms, 
From  present  pain,  and  future  unknown  harms, 

And  baby  sleeps. 

Dr.  Hinds. 


_^v 


^r 


HOME   OF   THE   CONQUERORS. 

Home  of  the  conquerors  !  how  bright. 
How  glorious  shine  thy  walls  of  light  ! 
May  I,  through  Christ,  a  passage  win, 
And,  late  or  early,  enter  in. 

No  clang  of  arms,  no  shouts  are  there, 
Borne  on  the  soft  and  balmy  air  ; 
No  snares  are  spread,  no  serpent's  fold, 
Upon  the  shining  streets  of  gold. 

No  foeman's  form  is  there  descried, 
No  whisper  heard  of  hate  or  pride  ; 
To  all  the  storms  that  here  may  swell, 
The  hosts  of  heaven  have  bid  farewell. 


O  joy  !  when  all  our  fear  and  ill 
Shall  cease  with  Jesu's  "  Peace,  be  still." 
O  joy  !  when  we  shall  sin  no  more, 
But  holy  live  for  evermore. 


HOME  OF  THE  CONQUERORS.         133 

Home  of  the  conquerors  !  I  press 
Towards  thy  haunts  of  happiness. 
In  Jesu's  name  I  fight,  I  win  ; 
Lift  up  the  gates  and  let  me  in  ! 

E.  A.  W. 


OUR  BELOVED. 

Our  beloved  have  departed, 
While  we  tarry,  broken-hearted, 

In  the  dreary,  empty  house. 
They  have  ended  life's  brief  story, 
They  have  reached  the  home  of  glory, 

Over  death  victorious. 


Hush  that  sobbing,  weep  more  lightly, 
On  we  travel,  daily,  nightly, 

To  the  rest  that  they  have  found. 
Are  we  not  upon  the  river, 
Sailing  fast  to  meet  for  ever 

On  more  holy,  happy  ground  1 


* 


On  we  haste,  to  home  invited, 
There  with  friends  to  be  united 
In  a  surer  land  than  here ; 
Meeting  soon  ; — and  meet  for  ever  ! 


OUR  BELOVED. 

Glorious  hope  !  Forsake  us  never, 
For  thy  glimmering  light  is  dear. 


i35 


Ah  !  the  way  is  shining  clearer, 
As  we  journey  ever  nearer 

To  the  everlasting  home. 
Comrades  !  who  await  our  landing  ! 
Friends  !  who  round  the  throne  are  standing ! 

We  salute  you,  and  we  come. 

Lange. 


• 


THE  REFUGE. 


Mortal,  who  sittest  silent,  dumb  with  woe, 
Know'st  thou  to  whom  the  sorrowful  should  go '? 
Hast  thou  not  heard  of  One  who  lived  and  died 
To  bless  mankind,  Jesus,  the  crucified  1 
Shake  off  thy  lethargy  ;  to  Jesus  flee  : 
'■  Be  of  good  comfort ;  rise,  He  calleth  thee." 

Oh,  not  in  vain  was  the  Redeemer  sent, 
Nor  vain  the  years  of  grief  and  toil  he  spent ; 
It  was  to  teach  us  how  to  bear  the  rod, 
To  suffer  and  to  do  the  will  of  God. 
Mortal,  shake  off  thy  gloom  ;  to  Jesus  flee  : 
"  Be  of  good  comfort;  rise,  He  calleth  thee." 

Our  Saviour  never  shrank  from  duty's  call, 
He  gave  for  sinful  man  his  life,  his  all ; 
Mortal,  he  thought  no  pain  too  great  for  you. 
And  is  there  nothing  thou  canst  find  to  do  1 
All,  yield  not  to  despair;  to  Jesus  flee  : 
"  Be  of  good  comfort ;  rise,  He  calleth  thee." 


THE  REFUGE.  137 

Thou  hast  been  creeping  slowly  o'er  the  road 
That  leads  to  peace,  to  purity,  to  God ; 
And  now  a  hand  is  stretched  to  lead  thee  on, 
'Twill  ne'er  forsake  thee  till  the  goal  is  won. 
Oh,  thrust  it  not  away  ;  to  Jesus  flee  : 
"  Be  of  good  comfort ;  rise,  he  calleth  thee." 

Thou  hast  been  sitting  by  the  way-side  blind, 
And  never  any  healer  could'st  thou  find  ; 
But  hearing  now  that  Jesus  passeth  by, 
To  Him  with  earnest  heart  and  voice  you  cry; 
And  He  has  heard  thee  !  then  to  Jesus  flee  : 
"  Be  of  good  comfort;  rise,  He  calleth  thee." 

Anon. 


WHEN    HE   GIVETH    QUIETNESS,   WHO 
THEN    CAN    MAKE    TROUBLE? 

Quiet  from  God  !  how  beautiful  to  keep 
This  treasure  the  All-merciful  hath  given, 

To  feel  when  we  awake  and  when  we  sleep, 

This  incense  round  us,  like  a  breath  from  heaven. 

To  sojourn  in  the  world,  and  yet  apart ; 

To  dwell  with  God,  and  still  with  man  to  feel ; 
To  bear  about  for  ever  in  the  heart 

The  gladness  which  his  Spirit  doth  reveal. 

Who  shall  make  trouble  then  1     Not  evil  minds, 
Which  like  a  shadow  o'er  creation  lower. 

The  soul  which  peace  hath  thus  attuned  finds 
How  strong  within  doth  reign  the  Calmer's  power. 

What  shall  make  trouble  1     Not  slow-wasting  pain, 
Nor  even  the  threatening,  certain  stroke  of  death. 

These  do  but  wear  away,  then  break  the  chain 
Which  bound  the  spirit  down  to  things  beneath. 

Anon. 


MATTHEW   XX.   17-28. 

Thy  thoughts  were  on  Jerusalem, 

The  cross  before  thine  eye ; 
But  Thou,  O  Lord,  didst  look  in  vain 

For  human  sympathy. 

Thy  thoughts  were  on  the  many  things 
That  Thou  should'st  suffer  there ; 

While  thy  disciples  only  thought 
Of  glory  as  their  share. 

Thy  thoughts  were  on  the  crown  of  thorns, 
The  grief,  the  shame,  the  woe ; 

Their  thoughts  were  on  the  glorious  crowns 
Thou  would'st  on  them  bestow. 

* 

How  selfish  is  the  human  heart ! 

(O  God,  we  feel,  and  own), 
That,  while  the  Saviour  seeks  a  cross, 

Can  seek  itself a  throne. 

A.  A.  W. 


GOD    EVERYWHERE. 

0  thou,  by  long  experience  tried, 
Near  whom  no  grief  ran  long  abide  ; 
My  Lord,  how  full  of  sweet  content 

1  pass  my  years  of  banishment  ! 

All  scenes  alike  engaging  prove 
To  souls  impress'd  with  sacred  love. 
Where'er  they  dwell,  they  dwell  in  Thee  ; 
In  heaven,  in  earth,  or  on  the  sea. 

To  me  remains  nor  place  nor  time, 

My  country  is  in  every  clime  : 
I  can  be  calm  and  free  from  care- 
On  any  shore,  since  God  is  there. 


While  place  we  seek,  or  place  we  shun. 
The  soul  finds  happiness  in  none  : 
But  with  a  God  to  guide  our  way, 
'Tis  equal  joy  to  go  or  stay. 


GOD  EVERYWHERE. 


141 


Could  I  be  cast  where  Thou  art  not. 
That  were  indeed  a  dreadful  lot ; 
But  regions  none  remote  I  call, 


Secure  of  finding  God  in  all. 


Guion. 


THE    RETROSPECT. 

When  the  vale  of  death  appears, 
Faint  and  cold  this  mortal  clay, 

Kind  Forerunner,  soothe  my  fears, 
Light  me  through  the  darksome  way 

Break  the  shadows, 
Usher  in  eternal  day. 

Starting  from  this  dying  state, 
Upward  bid  my  soul  aspire  ; 

Open  thou  the  crystal  gate, 
To  thy  praise  attune  my  lyre  : 

Dwell  for  ever, — 
Dwell  on  each  immortal  wire. 


From  the  sparkling  turrets  there, 
Oft  I'll  trace  my  pilgrim  way ; 

Often  bless  thy  guardian  care, — 
Fire  by  night,  and  cloud  by  day, — 

While  my  triumphs 
At  my  Leader's  feet  I  lay. 


THE  RETROSPECT. 


*43 


And  when  mighty  trumpets  blown 

Shall  the  judgment  dawn  proclaim, 
From  the  central  burning  throne, 
'Mid  creation's  final  flame, 

With  the  ransom'd, 
Judge  and  Saviour,  own  my  name  ! 

Mrs.  Gilbert. 


WORK   AND    REST. 

What  have  I  yet  to  do  1 

Day  weareth  on — 
Flowers  that,  opening  new, 
Smile  through  the  morning's  dew, 

Droop  in  the  sun. 

'Neath  the  noon's  scorching  glare, 

Fainting  I  stand ; 
Still  is  the  sultry  air, 
Silentness  everywhere 

Through  the  hot  land. 


Yet  must  I  labour  still, 

All  the  day  through — 
Striving  with  earnest  will, 
Patient  my  place  to  fill, 
My  work  to  do. 


WORK  AND  REST.  145 

Long  though  my  task  may  be, 

Cometh  the  end. 
God  'tis  that  helpeth  me, 
His  is  the  work,  and  He 

New  strength  will  lend. 

He  will  direct  my  feet, 

Strengthen  my  hand ; 
Give  me  my  portion  meet ; 
Firm  in  his  promise  sweet 

Trusting  I'll  stand. 

Up,  then,  to  work  again  ! 

God's  word  is  given, 
That  none  shall  sow  in  vain, 
But  find  his  ripened  grain, 

Garnered  in  heaven. 

Larger  the  shadows  fall, 

Night  cometh  on ; 
Low  voices  softly  call,  • 
"  Come,  here  is  rest  for  all ! 

Labour  is  done  !" 

Anon. 


THE    HARVEST    HOME. 

From  the  far-off  fields  of  earthly  toil, 

A  goodly  host  they  come ; 
And  sounds  of  music  are  on  the  air, 

'Tis  the  song  of  the  Harvest  Home  ! 
The  weariness  and  the  weeping, 

The  darkness,  has  all  passed  by, 
And  a  glorious  sun  has  risen, 

The  sun  of  eternity  ! 


We've  seen  those  faces  in  days  of  yore, 

When  the  dust  was  on  their  brow, 
And  the  scalding  tear  upon  their  cheek 

Let  us  look  at  the  lab'rers  now  ! 
We  think  of  the  life-long  sorrow, 

And  the  wilderness  days  of  care  ; 
We  try  to  trace  the  tear-drops ; 

But  no  scars  of  grief  are  there  ! 


THE  HARVEST  HOME.  147 

There's  a  mystery  of  soul-chastened  joy 

Lit  up  with  sunlight  hues. 
Like  morning  flowers,  most  beautiful 

When  wet  with  midnight  dews. 
There  are  depths  of  earnest  meaning 

In  each  true  and  trustful  gaze, 
Telling  of  wondrous  lessons 

Learnt  in  their  pilgrim  days  ; 

And  a  conscious  confidence  of  bliss, 

That  shall  never  again  remove ; 
All  the  faith  and  hope  of  journeying  years 

Gathered  up  in  that  look  of  love  ! 
The  long  waiting  days  are  over, 

They've  received  their  wages  now ; 
For  they've  gazed  upon  their  Master, 

And  his  name  is  on  their  brow. 

They  have  seen  the  safely  garner'd  sheaves, 
And  the  song  has  been  passing  sweet, 

Which  welcomed  the  last  incoming  one 
Laid  down  at  the  Saviour's  feet. 

Oh,  well  does  his  heart  remember, 
As  those  notes  of  praise  sweep  by, 

The  yearning,  plaintive  music 
Of  earth's  sadder  minstrelsy  ! 


148 


LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 


And  well  does  He  know  each  chequer'd  tale. 

As  He  looks  on  the  joyous  band ; 
All  the  lights  and  shadows  that  cross'd  their  path 

In  the  distant  pilgrim  land ; 
The  heart's  unspoken  anguish, 

The  bitter  sighs  and  tears, 
The  long,  long  hours  of  watching, 

The  changeful  hopes  and  fears  ! 

One  had  climbed  the  rugged  mountain  side — 

'Twas  a  bleak  and  wintry  day — 
The  tempest  had  scattered  his  precious  seed, 

And  he  wept  as  he  turned  away. 
But  a  stranger  hand  had  watered 

That  seed  on  a  distant  shore, 
And  the  lab'rers  now  are  meeting, 

Who  had  never  met  before. 

And  one — he  had  toiled  amid  burning  sands 

When  the  scorching  sun  was  high ; 
He  had  grasped  the  plough  with  a  fever'd  hand, 

And  then  laid  him  down  to  die  ! 
But  another,  and  yet  another, 

Had  filled  that  deserted  field  ; 
Nor  vainly  the  seed  they  scatter'd 

Where  a  brother's  care  had  tilled. 


THE  HARVEST  HOME.  149 

Some  with  eager  steps  went  boldly  forth, 

Broad-casting  o'er  the  land ; 
Some  watered  the  scarcely  budding  blade 

With  a  tender,  gentle  hand. 
There's  one — her  young  life  was  blighted 

By  the  withering  touch  of  woe  ; 
Her  days  were  sad  and  weary, 

And  she  never  went  forth  to  sow. 

But  there  rose  from  her  lonely  couch  of  pain 

The  fervent  pleading  prayer ; 
She  looks  on  many  a  radiant  brow, 

And  she  reads  the  answer  there  ! 
Yes  !  sowers  and  reapers  are  meeting, 

A  rejoicing  host  they  come  : 

Will  you  join  the  echoing  chorus  ? 

'Tis  the  song  of  the  Harvest  Home  ! 

C.  P. 


HYMN. 

No  !  no  !     It  is  not  dying 

To  Jesus'  self  to  go  ; 
The  gloom  of  earth  forsaking, 
In  one's  pure  home  awaking, 
Should  give  no  pang  of  woe. 

No  !  no  !     It  is  not  dying, 
In  heaven  at  last  to  dwell ; 

In  the  eternal  glory 

Of  crown  and  harp  and  story 
Our  earthly  fears  to  quell. 


No  !  no  !     It  is  not  dying, 

To  hear  the  gracious  tone 
Of  the  Almighty,  saying  : 
"  Come,  child,  wherever  straying, 
Behold  me  on  the  throne  ! " 


HYMN. 

No  !  no  !     It  is  not  dying, 

To  leave  this  world  of  strife, 
And  seek  that  blessed  river, 
Where  Christ  shall  lead  for  ever, 
His  sheep  'neath  trees  of  life. 

No  !  no  !     It  is  not  dying, 
With  lordly  glory  crown'd, 

To  join  in  the  thanksgiving 

To  Him,  the  everliving, 

With  which  the  heavens  resound. 

O  no  !     It  is  not  dying, 

Thou  Saviour  of  thine  own  ! 
There  from  the  fount  Eternal, 
Gush  life  and  joy  supernal ; 
Here  there  are  drops  alone. 


151 


Gerhardt. 


DESIRE    TO    DEPART. 

Let  me  depart,  beloved,  I  entreat  ye  ! 

Oh  !  I  am  weary  of  these  mortal  bands. 
Know  ye  who  waits  upon  the  throne  to  greet  me  1 

What  voice  has  called  me  to  celestial  lands  ? 

Hinder  me  not ;  your  loving  ministrations 
Do  but  bind  up  this  shattered  house  of  clay  ; 

When  my  poor  heart  with  agonized  pulsations 
Has  nearly  worn  the  crumbling  walls  away. 

See  how  it  flutters,  in  the  vain  endeavour ; 

Hear  the  hard  labour  of  my  panting  breath. 
"  How  long,  O  Lord,  how  long  !  oh,  wilt  thou  never 

Lend  to  my  help  thy  strong  deliv'rer,  Death  ? " 


Think  not,  beloved,  that  I  measure  lightly 
All  your  long  patience,  your  unwearied  care  ; 

The  tender  love  that  kept  its  vigils  nightly, 
Whilst  hope  sank  slowly  into  long  despair. 


DESIRE  TO  DEPART. 


i53 


For,  when  the  message  to  my  soul  was  spoken  : 
"  Thy  work  is  finished  ;  thou  art  called  above  ; 

Herewith  I  give  to  thee  a  certain  token  " — 
Ah  !  I  clung  sobbing  to  my  earthly  love. 

But  day  by  day  have  faith  and  hope  waxed  stronger, 
Till  now,  that  my  Redeemer  bids  me  come, 

My  soul  exults ;  I  would  not  tarry  longer 
Far  from  the  shelter  of  my  Father's  home. 

Jordan  is  wide  ;  its  stormy  billows  gather  ; 

My  mortal  weakness  shudders  at  their  strength  ; 
But,  on  the  other  side,  I  know  my  Father 

Waits  to  receive  me  into  rest,  at  length. 

I  near  the  shore — thanks  for  a  faith  unshaken ; 

Jesus  has  kept  me  in  his  close  embrace. 
"  Good  night,"  beloved ;  when  again  I  waken 

I  shall  indeed  behold  Him  "  face  to  face  !" 

Anon. 


REST,   WEARY   SOUL. 

Rest,  weary  soul ! 
The  penalty  is  borne,  the  ransom  paid, 
For  all  thy  sins  full  satisfaction  made ; 
Strive  not  thyself  to  do  what  Christ  has  done  : 
Take  the  free  gift,  and  make  the  joy  thine  own. 
No  more  by  pangs  of  guilt  and  fear  distrest — 

Rest,  sweetly  rest. 

Rest,  weary  heart ! 
From  all  thy  silent  griefs,  and  secret  pain, 
Thy  profitless  regrets  and  longings  vain ; 
Wisdom  and  love  have  ordered  all  the  past, 
All  shall  be  blessedness  and  light  at  last : 
Cast  off  the  cares  that  have  so  long  opprest — 

Rest,  sweetly  rest. 


Rest,  weary  head  ! 
Lie  down  to  slumber  in  the  peaceful  tomb, 
Light  from  above  has  broken  through  its  gloom  ; 


REST,   WEARY  SOUL.  i 

Here,  in  the  place  where  once  thy  Saviour  lay, 
"Where  He  shall  wake  thee  on  a  future  day, 
Like  a  tired  child  upon  its  mother's  breast — 
Rest,  sweetly  rest. 

Rest,  spirit  free  ! 
In  the  green  pasture  of  the  heavenly  shore, 
Where  sin  and  sorrow  can  approach  no  more ; 
With  all  the  flock  by  the  good  Shepherd  fed, 
Beside  the  streams  of  life  eternal  led, 
For  ever  with  thy  God  and  Saviour  blest — 

Rest,  sweetly  rest. 

Anon, 


jo 


HOW    LONG? 


The  tear  will  fall,  O  Father, 

When  I  see 
Those  curious  glances 
Fixed  on  me. 
How  long  this  cross,  my  Saviour,  must  I  bear  ? 
"  Until  thine  eyes  no  more  can  shed  a  tear." 

The  flush  will  rise,  O  Father, 

When  I  hear 
Those  rude,  insulting  words — 
The  bitter  jeer. 
How  long,  O  Lord,  must  I,  with  trembling,  fear  ? 
"Till  thou  these  mocking  words  no  more  canst  hear!" 

Sad  are  my  thoughts,  O  Father, 

Well  I  know, 
Ofttimes  neglects  are  mine, 
From  this  deep  woe. 
How  long,  kind  Parent,  must  I  check  each  sob  1 
"  Until  thy  heart  no  more  with  pain  can  throb." 


HOW  LONG? 


»57 


Then  all  my  life,  O  Father. 

Teach  me  how, 
Beneath  this  galling  cross 
To  humbly  bow. 
Oh  !  shall  I  never  cease  to  feel  thy  rod  ? 
"All  trials  cease  in  heaven,  at  home  with  God  !': 

Anon. 


THOU    WILT    NEVER   GROW    OLD. 

Thou  wilt  never  grow  old, 

Nor  weary,  nor  sad  in  the  home  of  thy  birth ; 
My  beautiful  lily,  thy  leaves  will  unfold 

In  a  clime  that  is  purer  and  brighter  than  earth  ; 
O  holy  and  fair,  I  rejoice  thou  art  there, 

In  that  kingdom  of  light,  with  its  cities  of  gold  ; 
Where  the  air  thrills  with  angel  hosannas  and  where 
Thou  wilt  never  grow  old,  sweet — 
Never  grow  old  ! 


I  am  a  pilgrim,  with  sorrow  and  sin 

Haunting  my  footsteps  wherever  I  go, 
Life  is  a  warfare  my  title  to  win — 

Well  will  it  be  if  it  end  not  in  woe. 
Pity  me,  sweet,  I  am  laden  with  care ; 

Dark  are  my  garments  with  mildew  and  mould  ; 
Thou,  my  bright  angel,  art  sinless  and  fair, 
And  wilt  never  grow  old,  sweet — 
Never  grow  old  ! 


THOU  WILT  XEVER  GROW  OLD.      159 

Now,  canst  thou  hear  from  thy  home  in  the  skies, 

All  the  fond  words  I  am  whispering  to  thee  ? 
Dost  thou  look  down  on  me  with  the  soft  eyes 

Greeting  me  oft  ere  thy  spirit  was  free  ? 
So  I  believe,  though  the  shadows  of  time 

Hide  the  bright  spirit  I  yet  shall  behold ; 
Thou  wilt  still  love  me,  and,  pleasure  sublime, 
Thou  wilt  never  grow  old,  sweet — 
Never  grow  old. 

Thus  wilt  thou  be  when  the  pilgrim,  grown  gray, 
Weeps  when  the  vines  from  the  hearthstone  are 
riven  ; 
Faith  shall  behold  thee,  as  pure  as  the  day 

Thou  wert  torn  from  the  earth  and  transplanted 
to  heaven. 
O  holy  and  fair,  I  rejoice  thou  art  there, 

In  that  kingdom  of  light,  with  its  cities  of  gold, 
Vv 'here  the  air  thrills  with  angel  hosannas,  and  where 
Thou  wilt  never  grow  old,  sweet — 
Never  grow  old  .' 

Mrs.  Howarth. 


UPHELD. 

When  heart  and  flesh  despondent  sink 
And  from  life's  warfare  fain  would  shrink, 
An  upward  glance  brings  heavenly  cheer ; 
Upheld  by  Him  I  smile  at  fear. 

When  life  appears  a  sea  of  woe, 
And  all  its  waves  my  soul  o'erflow, 
To  Him  I  flee  for  sure  relief; 
Upheld  by  Him,  I  smile  at  grief. 

When  troubles  like  a  mountain  rise, 
And  comfort  from  my  bosom  flies, 
I  to  the  mercy-seat  repair ; 
Upheld  by  Him,  I  smile  at  care, 


When  earthly  treasure  fails  and  fades, 
And  chilling  poverty  invades, 
He  every  needed  good  will  grant  ; 
Upheld  by  Him,  I  smile  at  want. 


UPHELD.  161 

When  faith  grows  dim,  and  from  its  sight 
My  star  of  hope  would  vail  its  light, 
Grace  bids  a  beam  of  joy  shine  out  ; 
Upheld  by  Him,  I  smile  at  doubt. 

When  wasting  anguish  and  disease 
Upon  my  suffering  body  seize, 
My  murmuring  lips  shall  not  complain  : 
Upheld  by  Him,  I  smile  at  pain. 

When  time  with  me  shall  reach  its  close. 

And  in  the  grave  I  seek  repose, 

With  joy  I'll  yield  my  failing  breath ; 

Upheld  by  Him,  I  smile  at  death. 

Anon. 


:.i 


FAITH. 

See  Faith,  with  upward  eyes, 
Beholds  the  distant  land  ; 
Her  fair  possessions  in  the  skies, 
And  waits  with  outstretched  hand. 

She  leans  upon  the  cross, 
And  sheds  a  tear  or  two  : 
But  glory  plays  in  either  eye, 
As  beams  in  early  dew. 

She  smiles  in  deep  distress, 
In  storms  she  stands  serene ; 
The  whirlwind  idly  rages  by, 
Unmoved  she  views  the  scene. 


The  world  beneath  her  feet, 

She  heeds  not,  or  disdains  j 

Her  thundering  foes  are  slain,  or  bound 

In  adamantine  chains. 


FAITH. 


163 


She  waits  the  voice  of  God, 
That  calls  her  to  the  skies  ; 
Then  soars  aloft,  in  glory  veiled. 
And  in  fruition  dies. 


Lawson. 


THOUGHTS    IN    BLINDNESS. 


O  loss  of  sight,  of  thee  I  most  complain  ! 
Blind  among  enemies,  O  worse  than  chains, 
Dungeon,  or  beggary,  or  decrepit  age  ! 
Light,  the  prime  work  of  God,  to  me  is  extinct, 
And  all  her  various  objects  of  delight 
Annull'd,  which  might  in  part  my  grief  have 

eas'd, 
Inferior  to  the  vilest  now  become 
Of  man  or  worm  ;  the  vilest  here  excel  me  : 
They  creep,  yet  see ;  I,  dark  in  light,  expos'd 
To  daily  fraud,  contempt,  abuse,  and  wrong, 
Within  doors,  or  without,  still  as  a  fool, 
In  power  of  others,  never  in  my  own ; 
Scarce  half  I  seem  to  live,  dead  more  than  half. 
Oh,  dark,  dark,  dark,  amid  the  blaze  of  noon, 
Irrecoverably  dark,  total  eclipse 

Without  all  hope  of  day  ! 
O  first  created  beam,  and  thou  great  Word, 


THOUGHTS  IN  BLINDNESS. 


165 


"Let  there  be  light,  and  light  was  over  all;" 
Why  am  I  thus  bereav'd  thy  prime  decree  % 

The  sun  to  me  is  dark 

And  silent  as  the  moon, 

When  she  deserts  the  night, 
Hid  in  her  vacant  interlunar  cave. 

Milton. 


THE    PILGRIM'S    FAREWELL. 

Farewell,  poor  world  !  I  must  be  gone  ; 
Thou  art  no  home,  no  rest  for  me  : 
I'll  take  my  staff,  and  travel  on, 
Till  I  a  better  world  may  see. 

Why  art  thou  loth,  my  heart  ?     O  why 
Dost  thou  recoil  within  my  breast  1 
Grieve  not,  but  say  farewell,  and  fly 
Unto  the  ark,  my  dove  !  there's  rest. 

I  come,  my  Lord,  a  pilgrim's  pace ; 
Weary  and  weak,  I  slowly  move  ; 
Longing,  but  can't  yet  reach  the  place, 
The  gladsome  place  of  rest  above. 


I  come,  my  Lord,  the  floods  here  rise, 
These  troubled  seas  foam  nought  but  mire ; 
My  dove  back  to  my  bosom  flies  : 
Farewell,  poor  world  ! — heaven's  my  desire. 


THE  PILGRIM'S  FAREWELL. 


167 


"Stay,  stay,"  said  Earth,  "whither,  fond  one? 
Here's  a  fair  world,  what  would'st  thou  have  1" 
Fair  world  !     Oh  no,  thy  beauty's  gone, 
A  heavenly  Canaan,  Lord,  I  crave. 

Thus  ancient  travellers, — thus  they, 
Weary  of  earth,  sighed  after  thee  : 
They're  gone  before, — I  may  not  stay, 
Till  I  both  thee  and  them  may  see. 

Put  on,  my  soul,  put  on  with  speed ; 
Though  the  way  be  long,  the  end  is  sweet : 
Once  more,  poor  world,  farewell  indeed  ! 
In  leaving  thee,  my  Lord  I  meet. 

Anon. 


RACHEL'S    TEARS. 

Oh,  weep  not  o'er  thy  children's  tomb, 

O  Rachel,  weep  not  so  ! 
The  bud  is  cropped  by  martyrdom, 

The  flower  in  heaven  shall  blow  ! 

Firstlings  of  faith  !  the  murderer's  knife 
Has  missed  its  deadliest  aim  : 

The  God  for  whom  they  gave  their  life, 
For  them  to  suffer  came  ! 


Though  feeble  were  their  days  and  few, 

Baptised  in  blood  and  pain, 
He  knows  them,  whom  they  never  knew, 

And  they  shall  live  again. 

Then  weep  not  o'er  thy  children's  tomb, 

O  Rachel,  weep  not  so  ! 
The  bud  is  cropped  by  martyrdom, 

The  flower  in  heaven  shall  blow. 

Heber. 


THE   HEAVENLY   WELL-SPRING. 

Bliss  beyond  compare, 

Which  in  Christ  I  share  ! 
He's  my  only  joy  and  treasure ; 
Tasteless  is  all  worldly  pleasure, 

When  in  Christ  I  share 

Bliss  beyond  compare. 

Jesus  is  my  joy, 

Therefore,  blest  am  I. 
Oh  !  his  mercy  is  unbounded, 
All  my  hope  on  Him  is  founded ; 

Jesus  is  my  joy, 

Therefore  blest  am  I 


When  the  Lord  appears, 

This  my  spirit  cheers  ; 
When,  his  love  to  me  revealing, 
He,  the  Sun  of  Grace,  with  healing 

In  his  beams,  appears, — 

This  my  Spirit  cheers. 


170 


LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 


Then  all  grief  is  drown'd  ; 

Pure  delight  is  found. 
Joy  and  peace  in  his  salvation, 
Heav'nly  bliss  and  consolation, 

Ev'ry  grief  is  drown'd 

Where  such  bliss  is  found. 


Anon. 


OUR    EVERLASTING    HOME. 

Still  in  a  world  of  sin  and  pain, 
Far  from  our  home,  we  meet  again  ; 
Dreary  and  long  our  course  may  be, 
But  oh,  our  God,  it  leads  to  thee  ! 
Thou  art  the  light  by  which  we  roam,— 
Thou  art  our  everlasting  home. 

Thy  hand  is  still  around  to  bless, 
Thou  dost  not  leave  us  comfortless  ; 
Earth  and  its  pain  we  still  may  feel, 
But  Thou  art  ever  near  to  heal ; 
Still  as  our  day  our  strength  shall  be, 
For  all  our  cares  are  borne  by  Thee. 

Still,  as  time's  changing  current  rolls, 

Thy  comforts,  Lord,  delight  our  souls  : 

Thy  mighty  arm  to  smooth  our  way, 

Thy  light  to  turn  our  night  to  day ; 

Onward  with  firmer  steps  we  roam, 

On  to  our  everlasting  home. 

Anon. 


BE    STILL. 

Be  still,  my  soul ;  Jehovah  loveth  thee  ; 

Fret  not  nor  murmur  at  thy  weary  lot ; 
Though  dark  and  lone  thy  journey  seems  to  be, 

Be  sure  that  thou  art  ne'er  by  Him  forgot. 
He  ever  loves ;  then  trust  Him,  trust  Him  still, 
Let  all  thy  care  be  this,  the  doing  of  his  will. 

Thy  hand  in  his,  like  fondest,  happiest  child, 
Place  thou,  nor  draw  it  for  a  moment  thence ; 

Walk  thou  with  Him,  a  Father  reconciled, 

Till  in  his  own  good  time  He  call  thee  hence. 

Walk  with  Him  now,  so  shall  thy  way  be  bright, 

And  all  thy  soul  be  filled  with  his  most  glorious  light. 

Fight  the  good  fight  of  faith,  nor  turn  aside 
Through  fear  of  peril  from  or  earth  or  hell ; 

Take  to  thee  now  the  armour  proved  and  tried, 

Take  to  thee  spear  and  sword ; — oh,  wield  them 

well ; 
So  shalt  thou  conquer  here,  so  win  the  day, 

So  wear  the  crown  when  this  hard  life  has  pass' d  away. 


BE  STILL. 


173 


Take  courage  !  faint  not,  though  the  foe  be  strong  ; 

Christ  is  thy  strength ;  he  fighteth  on  thy  side ; 
Swift  be  thy  race ;  remember,  'tis  not  long, 

The  goal  is  near ;  the  prize  He  will  provide ; 
And  then  from  earthly  toil  thou  restest  ever ; 
Thy  home  on  the  fair  banks  of  life's  eternal  river  ! 

He  comes  with  his  reward ;  'tis  just  at  hand ; 

He  comes  in  glory  to  his  promised  throne. 
My  soul,  rejoice ;  ere  long  thy  feet  shall  stand 

Within  the  city  of  the  Blessed  One. 
Thy  perils  past,  thy  heritage  secure, 
Thy  tears  all  wiped  away,  thy  joy  for  ever  sure. 

H.   Bonar. 


LOOKING   TO   JESUS. 

Thou,  who  didst  stoop  below, 

To  drain  the  cup  of  woe, 
Wearing  the  form  of  frail  mortality, — 

Thy  blessed  labours  done, 

Thy  crown  of  victory  won, 
Has  passed  from  earth — passed  to  thy  home  on  high. 

Man  may  no  longer  trace 

In  thy  celestial  face, 
The  image  of  the  bright,  the  viewless  One ; 

Nor  may  thy  servants  hear, 

Save  with  faith's  raptured  ear, 
Thy  voice  of  tenderness,  God's  holy  Son  ! 

Our  eyes  behold  Thee  not, 

Yet  hast  Thou  not  forgot 
Those  who  have  placed  their  hope,  their  trust  in 
Thee  ; 

Before  thy  Father's  face 

Thou  hast  prepared  a  place, 
That  where  Thou  art,  there  they  may  also  be. 


LOOKING  TO  JESUS. 


175 


It  was  no  path  of  flowers, 
Through  this  dark  world  of  ours, 

Beloved  of  the  Father,  Thou  didst  tread ; 
And  shall  we,  in  dismay, 
Shrink  from  the  narrow  way, 

When  clouds  and  darkness  are  around  it  spread  1 

O  Thou,  who  art  our  life, 

Be  with  us  through  the  strife  ! 
Was  not  thy  head  by  earth's  fierce  tempest  bowed  ? 

Raise  Thou  our  eyes  above, 

To  see  a  Father's  love 
Beam,  like  the  bow  of  promise,  through  the  cloud. 

Even  through  the  awful  gloom, 

Which  hovers  o'er  the  tomb, 
That  light  of  love  our  guiding  star  shall  be  ; 

Our  spirits  shall  not  dread 

The  shadowy  way  to  tread, 
Friend,  Guardian,  Saviour,  which  doth  lead  to  Thee. 

Anon. 


THE    SECRET    PLACE   OF   THE    MOST 

HIGH. 


Call  Jehovah  thy  salvation, 

Rest  beneath  the  Almighty's  shade, 
In  his  secret  habitation 

Dwell,  nor  ever  be  dismay'd; 
There  no  tumult  can  alarm  thee, 

Thou  shalt  dread  no  hidden  snare ; 
Guile  nor  violence  can  harm  thee, 

In  eternal  safeguard  there. 

From  the  sword  at  noonday  wasting, 

From  the  noisome  pestilence 
In  the  depth  of  midnight  blasting, 

God  shall  be  thy  sure  defence. 
Fear  not  thou  the  deadly  quiver, 

When  a  thousand  feel  the  blow, 
Mercy  shall  thy  soul  deliver, 

Though  ten  thousand  be  laid  low. 


SECRET  PLACE  OF  THE  MOST  HIGH.    177 

Thee,  though  winds  and  waves  be  swelling 

God,  thine  hope,  shall  bear  through  all, 
Plague  shall  not  come  near  thy  dwelling. 

Thee  no  evil  shall  befall ; 
He  shall  charge  his  angel  legions, 

Watch  and  guard  o'er  thee  to  keep, 
Though  thou  walk  through  hostile  regions. 

Though  in  desert  wilds  thou  sleep. 

Since,  with  pure  and  true  affection, 

Thou  on  God  hast  set  thy  love, 
With  the  wings  of  his  protection 

He  will  shield  thee  from  above  : 
Thou  shalt  call  on  Him  in  trouble. 

He  will  hearken,  He  will  save  : 
Here  for  grief  reward  thee  double, 

Crown  with  life  beyond  the  grave. 

Montgomery. 


N 


DEATH    OF    THE    SAINT. 

In  vain  our  fancy  strives  to  paint 
The  moment  after  death, 

The  glories  that  surround  the  saint, 
When  he  resigns  his  breath. 

One  gentle  sigh  his  fetters  breaks  ; 

We  scarce  can  say,  "  He's  gone," 
Before  the  willing  spirit  takes 

Her  mansion  near  the  throne. 

Faith  strives,  but  all  its  efforts  fail 
To  trace  her  in  her  flight ; 

No  eye  can  pierce  within  the  veil, 
Which  hides  that  world  of  li<rht. 


Thus  much  (and  this  is  all)  we  know, 

They  are  supremely  blest ; 
Have  done  with  sin,  and  care,  and  woe, 

And  with  their  Saviour  rest. 


DEATH  OF  THE  SAINT. 


i/9 


On  harps  of  gold  they  praise  his  name. 

His  face  they  always  view ; 
Then  let  us  followers  be  of  them, 

That  we  may  praise  him  too. 

Newton. 


REST   IN   HOPE. 

Rest,  rest  in  hope,  thou  dying  dust ; 

Thou  shalt  arise  in  glory  bright ; 
The  grave  shall  hold  thee  but  in  trust : — 

God  is  the  everlasting  light 
Of  thee,  and  all  the  happy  just. 

Cobbin 


STAR   OF   MY   HOPE. 

Star  of  my  hope  !  depart  not ; 

My  soul's  supremest  light ; 
'Tis  horror  where  thou  art  not, 

Worse  than  Egyptian  night ! 

Though  many  a  star  of  splendour 

Around  the  concave  shine, 
Their  beams  no  comfort  render, 

Till  lighted  up  by  thine  ! 

But  Thou,  though  far,  canst  lighten 
This  dark  world  with  thy  ray ; 

And,  sunlike,  heaven  will  brighten ; 
The  fountain  of  its  day  ! 

Edmeston. 


sfe(?r3 


I   WOULD    NOT   LIVE  ALWAYS. 


Call  earth  an  Eden,  if  on  roses 

Your  every  step  in  life  you  tread  ; 
But  he  whose  cherished  all  reposes 

Where  rest  the  missing,  silent  dead, 
Will  have  no  wish  to  live  for  ever — 

Will  deem  each  day  too  dearly  won. 

Thank  God,  my  five-and-thirtieth  sun 
Has  passed  !     Time,  like  this  mountain  river, 
Rolls  on.      Life  hath  for  me  few  pleasures. 

Press  lightly,  earth,  on  my  departed ; 

And  soon  shall  I,  the  broken-hearted, 
Lie  down,  in  rest  where  lie  my  treasures. 

Burger. 


WHEN  I  AM  DEAD. 

When  I  am  dead,  and  silent  lying, 
Should  you,  in  your  hour  of  awe, 

Gaze  upon  me,  softly  sighing, 
Back  the  solemn  curtain  draw  : 

But  the  frame  of  clay  you'll  see, 

0  belov'd,  will  not  be  me; 

1  shall  be  with  Christ,  my  treasure. 
Drinking  in  eternal  pleasure. 


When  I'm  in  the  coffin  shrouded, 
Mantled  in  a  winding-sheet, 

All  the  springs  of  life  beclouded, 
In  that  peaceable  retreat : 

4 

Stay  the  tear  ;  to  weep  forbear  ; 
I,  my  friend,  shall  not  be  there ; 
I  shall  be  where  Sharon's  Rose, 
Chief  in  beauty,  fragrant  blows. 


1 84  LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 

When  you  see  my  eye  fast  closed, 

And  regret  its  quenched  beam, — 
Every  fringy  lash  reposed 

Where  oft  flowed  the  copious  stream  : 
Let  no  tear-drop  fall  from  thine  : 
Dear  one,  it  will  not  be  mine  ; 
Mine  on  Jesus  will  be  dwelling, 
All  the  sons  of  light  excelling  ! 

When  my  feet,  devoid  of  motion, 

Side  by  side  inactive  lay, 
Should  you  think,  with  fond  emotion, 

"Never  more  with  me  they'll  stray  !" 
They  will  not  be  mine,  beloved ; 
Mine,  by  love's  impatience  moved, 
Will  o'er  heaven's  bright  pavement  glide, 
Till  they  reach  Immanuefs  side. 

Should  your  mournful  eyebeam  linger, 
Should  your  palm  the  surface  press 

Of  my  icy,  marble  finger, 

Shrinking  from  its  nothingness  : 

Dearest  friend,  'twill  not  be  mine, 

Motionless  in  palm  of  thine  ; 

Mine  will  then  be  sweetly  playing, 

O'er  a  harp  angelic  straying. 


WHEN  I  AM  DEAD. 

When  you  mark  my  head  reposing, 
Heedless,  thoughtless,  tearless,  still, 

Death's  dark  victory  disclosing, 
O'er  the  memory,  heart,  and  will  : 

As  you  trace  care's  furrowed  line 

'Cross  the  brow,  'twill  not  be  mine  ; 

Mine  will  lean  on  Jesus'  breast, 

Pillowed  on  eternal  rest. 

When  the  humid  grave's  receiving 
That  cold  casket,  where  to  dwell, 

Oft  my  spirit,  sadly  grieving, 
Found  it  but  a  prison  cell  : 

I,  my  love,  shall  not  be  there, — 

Clear  escaped  for  ever,  where 

I  shall  then  be  with  another, 

Christ,  my  Lover,  Bridegroom,  Brother. 


185 


Anon. 


HOMEWARD    BOUND. 

Out  on  an  ocean  all  boundless  we  ride, 

We're  homeward  bound  ; 
Tossed  on  the  waves  of  a  rough  restless  tide, 

We're  homeward  bound ; 
Far  from  the  safe,  quiet  harbour  we've  rode, 
Seeking  our  Father's  celestial  abode, 
Promise  of  which  on  us  each  He  bestowed. 

We're  homeward  bound. 


Wildly  the  storm  sweeps  us  on  as  it  roars, 

We're  homeward  bound  ; 
Look  !  yonder  lie  the  bright  heavenly  shores, 

We're  homeward  bound ; 
Steady,  O  pilot !  stand  firm  at  the  wheel, 
Steady ;  we  soon  shall  outweather  the  gale, 
Oh,  how  we  fly  'neath  the  loud  creaking  sail. 

We're  homeward  bound. 


HOMEWARD  BOUND. 


187 


Into  the  harbour  of  heaven  now  we  glide, 

"We're  home  at  last ; 
Softly  we  drift  on  its  bright  silver  tide, 

We're  home  at  last ; 
Glory  to  God  !  all  our  dangers  are  o'er ; 
We  stand  secure  on  the  glorified  shore  ; 
Glory  to  God  !  we  will  shout  evermore, 

We're  home  at  last. 

Anon. 


''<g£P 


A    LITTLE    WHILE. 


A  little  while  to  walk  this  weary  road ; 
A  little  while  to  bear  this  heavy  load ; 
Then  all  our  earthly  pilgrimage  shall  cease, 
And  we  shall  wear  the  crown  in  perfect  peace. 

A  little  while  to  love  with  earthly  love, 

And  then  we  share  the  "  fulness  "  from  above  ; 

A  little  time  of  darkness  and  of  doubt, 

Then  the  bright  home  whose  light  shall  ne'er  go  out. 

A  little  toil  and  sadness  here  below ; 
A  little  time  to  watch,  and  plant,  and  sow ; 
Then  Jesus  calls  his  labourers  away, 
Where  everlasting  joy  and  gladness  stay. 

A  little  while  of  storm,  and  wind,  and  rain, 
And  then  the  shining  haven  we  shall  gain  ; 
A  little  time  to  toss  on  life's  rough  sea, 
Then  in  that  peaceful  home  our  rest  shall  be. 


A  LITTLE  WHILE. 


189 


A  little  while  !     O  Saviour,  make  us  strong 
To  bear  that  little,  though  it  oft  seem  long  : 
Guide  Thou  our  way  with  thine  own  loving  hand, 
Till  we  shall  enter  in  the  Promised  Land  ! 

New  York  Observer. 


A   PRAYER. 

Father  !  for  rest  in  Thee, 

Toss'd  on  the  heaving  sea 
Of  my  own  fearful  soul,  I  trembling  cry  ! 

Dark  shadows  round  me  fall, 

Clouds  brood  on  high  o'er  all, 
And  the  night  winds  with  mournful  wail  float  by, 

Whilst  through  the  low'ring  sky 

Their  voices  sadly  call. 


Father  !  for  rest  in  Thee, 

Under  thy  wing  to  be, 
In  thy  protecting  arm  secure  to  lie, 

To  know  that  Thou  art  near. 

And  therefore  not  to  fear 
The  chilling  gusts  that  ceaselessly  pass  by — 

Such  is  thy  child's  faint  cry  : 

Father  in  heaven,  hear ! 


A  PRAYER.  191 

This  heart  is  faint  and  weak  ; 

This  fragile  reed  must  break, 
But  for  the  strength  Thou  only  canst  bestow. 

Lord,  let  me  trust  in  Thee — 

Do  thou  my  helper  be — 
The  rock  to  shelter  me  from  crushing  woe  ; 

Teach  me  thy  voice  to  know, 

Thy  hand  in  all  to  see  ! 

Illume  my  future  way 

With  a  celestial  ray 
Drawn  from  thy  heaven  of  peace,  and  love,  and  light; 

Let  not  the  vain  world  dim 

That  ray,  nor  secret  sin 
O'ercloud  its  darkness  to  my  spirit's  sight ; 

Throughout  life's  stormy  night 

Keep  it  unquenched  within  ! 

Let  not  my  weak  steps  fail, 

Let  not  my  faint  heart  quail, 
For  his  dear  sake  who  agony  hath  known, 

For  his  who  bore  our  pain, 

For  his  who  shared  our  shame, 
And  trod  the  winepress  of  thy  wrath  alone, 

That  we  might  be  his  own, 

Glory  to  his  high  name  ! 


192 


LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 


Father  !  oh,  keep  me  still ! 

Through  earthly  good  or  ill, 
Aid  Thou  my  trembling  feet  to  rest  at  last ; 

Oh,  let  the  city  bright, 

Thy  house  be  still  in  sight, 
My  beacon-star  till  death's  dark  wave  is  past  ! 

Its  harp-notes  through  the  blast 

Guide  me  to  Thee  aright ! 

M. 


A   RETROSPECT. 

I  should  not  mourn  my  passing  youth. 
If  I  had  spent  it,  Lord,  for  Thee ; 
But  oh,  my  coldness  and  untruth 
Are  oft  a  bitter  grief  to  me  ! 

The  friends  so  early  called  away, 
I  would  not  wish  them  here  again ; 
But  would  my  soul  had  learnt  to  stay 
More  upon  Thee,  who  dost  remain  ! 

I  do  not  grieve  that  mine  are  not 
The  blessings  I  see  others  share ; 
But  would  my  soul  had  ne'er  forgot 
The  joy  of  which  it  is  an  heir  ! 

4 

No  sorrow  leaves  a  bitter  taste ; 
'  Tis  only  sin  that  can  distress ; 
That  I  should  time  and  talents  waste, 
Xor  love  Thee  more,  and  this  world  less. 


o 


194  LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 

My  years  crowd  sail,  and  pass  away 
Before  me  to  eternity. 
How  poorly  freighted,  Lord,  are  they 
With  acts  of  faith  and  love  to  Thee  ! 

0  give  me  now  a  purer  zeal ; 
In  true  contrition  keep  me  low ; 
And  any  love  that  I  may  feel, 
By  meek  obedience  may  I  show. 

Then,  when  life's  little  day  is  o'er, 

1  shall  not  mourn,  its  conflict  won  ; 
The  faithful  servant  asks  no  more 

Than  hear  Thee  say  at  last,  "  Well  done  ! " 

E.  A.  W. 


THINGS  ABOVE. 

Strong  is  death's  chilly  blast, 

Friends  are  departing  fast, 

Leaving  the  world  to  strangers  and  me, 

Where  all  is  so  bitter  cold.      Ah  me  !  the  heart 

grows  old, 
Long  ere  the  dark  locks  whitened  should  be. 

In  many  a  dwelling  the  dread  voice  is  telling, 
That  the  bright  eye   is   quenched,   and   the    dark 

coffin  closed, 
That  chill,  chill,  and  rigid  now 
Is  that  broad  and  beauteous  brow, 
Where   thought   and  the  sweetness   of  love  once 

reposed. 

The  tears  cease  to  flow,  the  wild,  pulse  of  woe 
For  ever  is  hushed  in  the  heart  and  the  brain ; 
Yet  even  from  those  lips,  in  death's  dark  eclipse, 
They  forbid  us  to  weep. 
We  shall  soon  meet  again. 


196 


LYRA  CONSOLATJONIS. 


Children  of  love  and  light, 

Oh  !  but  your  robes  are  bright : 

Wore  ye  e'er  the  vestments  of  sin  and  of  woe  1 

Oh,  yes  !     Then  to  Him,  who  did  you  redeem, 

Let  your  high  song  of  praise  to  eternity  flow. 

E.  S. 


DIVINE   SHELTER. 


Jesus  !  most  holy  One  ! 

Pray  I  to  Thee  : 
These  chains  of  darkness, 

•Lord,  break  for  me  ! 

Take  this  sad  heart  of  mine, 

Mourning  for  sin, 
To  thy  great  heart  of  love  ! — 

Lord,  take  me  in  ! 

On  the  dark  mountains 
Long  have  I  strayed ; 

Cold  winds  of  sorrow 
Round  me  have  played  : 

* 

None  to  bring  comfort — 
None  have  I  found ; 

Wild  tears  of  anguish 
Watered  the  ground. 


198 


LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 

To  this  dear  refuge 

Now  have  I  fled  ; 
Know  I  thy  kind  heart 

For  me  has  bled. 

Take  now  the  wanderer 

Home  to  thy  rest ; 
Under  thy  kind  wing 

Sheltered  and  blest ! 


Anon. 


JESUS    HELP. 

Oh,  help  me  o'er  this  river, 
Thou  who  hast  cross'd  before ; 

Oh  help,  or  I  shall  never 
Reach  the  further  shore. 

Its  waters  swell  and  eddy  ; 

I  fall,  I  sink,  I'm  lost  : 
Oh  keep  my  footsteps  steady, 

Till  I  have  safely  cross'd. 

Stretch  out  thy  hand  to  save  me, 
As  Thou  hast  often  done ; 

For  if  Thou  wilt  not  have  me, 
Then  I  am  wholly  gone. 


If  Thou,  dear  Lord,  wilt  have  me, 
If  Thou  wilt  help  my  need  ; 

Ah,  this  will  save,  will  save  me, 
And  I  am  saved  indeed. 


200  LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 

A  word  from  Thee  will  do  it, 
One  word,  one  word,  no  more, 

I  shall  be  carried  through  it 
And  landed  on  the  shore. 

Oh,  help  me  through  this  trial, 
Thou  tried  and  tempted  One ; 

I  cannot  take  denial ; — 
Thou  must,  or  I  am  gone. 

'Tis  Thee — Thee,  Saviour,  only, 
That  can  suffice  for  me  ; 

For  I  am  tried  and  lonely, 
I  have  no  friend  but  Thee. 


Anon. 


BE  STRONG. 

Take  thy  staff,  O  pilgrim, 
Haste  thee  on  thy  way ; 

Let  the  morrow  find  thee 
Farther  than  to-day. 

If  thou  seek  the  city 
Of  the  Golden  Street, 

Pause  not  on  thy  pathway — 
Rest  not,  weary  feet. 

In  the  heavenly  journey 
Press  with  zeal  along ; 

Resting  will  but  weary, 

Running  make  thee  strong. 


Anon. 


CONSOLATION. 


Where  the  mourner  weeping 

Sheds  the  secret  tear, 
God  his  watch  is  keeping, 

Though  none  else  be  near. 

Jesus  ne'er  will  leave  thee ; 

All  thy  wants  He  knows  ; 
Feels  the  pains  that  grieve  thee, 

Sees  thy  hidden  woes. 

Raise  thine  eyes  to  heaven 
When  thy  spirits  quail, 

When,  by  tempests  driven, 
Heart  and  courage  fail. 

When  in  grief  we  languish, 

He  will  dry  the  tear, 
Who  his  children's  anguish 

Soothes  with  succour  near. 


CONSOLA  TION.  203 

All  our  woe  and  sadness 

In  this  world  below, 
Balance  not  the  gladness 

We  in  heaven  shall  know — 

When  our  gracious  Saviour, 

In  the  realms  above, 
Crowns  us  with  his  favour, 

Fills  us  with  his  love.     Amen. 

Anon. 


COMFORT    IN    AFFLICTION. 

Affliction  is  a  stormy  deep, 
Where  wave  resounds  to  wave ; 

Though  o'er  my  head  the  billows  roll, 
I  know  the  Lord  can  save. 

The  hand  which  now  withholds  my  joys, 
Can  soon  restore  my  peace ; 

And  He,  who  bade  the  tempest  rise, 
Can  bid  that  tempest  cease. 

In  the  dark  watches  of  the  night, 

I'll  count  his  mercies  o'er ; 
I'll  praise  Him  for  ten  thousand  past, 

And  humbly  pray  for  more. 


When  darkness  and  when  sorrow  rose, 
And  press'd  on  every  side, 

The  Lord  has  still  sustained  my  steps, 
And  still  has  been  my  guide. 


COMFORT  IN  AFFLICTION. 


20- 


On  Him  I'll  rest  and  build  my  hopes, 

Nor  murmur  at  his  rod  ; 
He's  more  than  all  the  world  to  me, 

My  health,  my  life,  my  God. 

Cotton. 


SECRET  SORROWS. 

Deep  in  the  heart's  remotest  cell 
Lie  hidden  griefs  and  many  a  care, 
Which  e'en  with  those  who  love  us  well 
We  never  can  completely  share. 
Such  pains  can  know  no  human  cure, 
From  them  no  skill  relief  can  find, 
Life  doth  but  teach  us  to  endure 
The  secret  sorrows  of  the  mind. 


Though  love  may  probe  with  cautious  hand, 
Though  curiosity  may  pry, 
The  heart's  dark  mazes  can't  be  scanned 
By  the  most  scrutinising  eye. 
Each  one  her  bitterness  best  knows, 
When  her  own  anguish  lies  confined; 
And  bears  apart  as  sacred  woes, 
The  secret  sorrows  of  the  mind. 


SECRET  SORROWS. 


207 


One  eye  alone  has  marked  our  grief, 
One  voice  has  whispered  hope  and  cheer, 
One  hand  administered  relief, 
One  heart  in  sympathy  is  near; 
Yea  none  but  He  who  formed  the  soul, 
And  first  her  place  and  powers  defined, 
Can  turn  to  blessings  or  control 
The  secret  sorrows  of  the  mind. 

H.  Fry. 


THE  ANVIL  AND  THE  HAMMER. 

For  by  afflictions,  man  refined  growes, 
And  (as  the  gold  prepared  in  the  fire) 
Receiveth  such  a  forme  by  wrongs  and  blowes, 
That  he  becomes  the  Jewell  we  desire  ! 

To  Thee,  therefore,  O  God  !  my  prayers  are 
Not  to  be  freed  from  griefes  and  troubles  quite ; 
But,  that  they  may  be  such  as  I  can  beare, 
And  serve  to  make  me  precious  in  thy  sight. 

This  please  me  shall,  though  all  my  lifetime  I 
Between  thine  anvill  and  the  hammer  lie. 

Wither. 


HEAL   ME. 

Gently,  gently  lay  thy  rod 
On  my  sinful  head,  O  God. 
Stay  thy  wrath,  in  mercy  stay, 
Lest  I  sink  before  its  sway. 

Heal  me,  for  my  flesh  is  weak ; 
Heal  me,  for  thy  grace  I  seek ; 
This  my  only  plea  I  make, 
Heal  me  for  thy  mercy's  sake. 

Who  within  the  silent  grave 
Shall  proclaim  thy  power  to  save  ? 
Lord,  my  trembling  soul  reprieve, 
Speak,  and  I  shall  rise  and  live. 

Lo  !  He  comes  !     He  heeds  my  plea  ! 
Lo  !  He  comes ;  the  shadows  flee  ! 
Glory  round  me  dawns  once  more  ; 
Rise,  my  spirit,  and  adore  ! 


Lyte. 


FAR  FROM   HOME. 

Far  from  home,  I  feel  a  longing ; 

Earth  is  but  a  barren  clod  ; 
While  the  storms  are  round  me  thronging, 

Take,  oh  take  me  home  to  God. 
Part,  ye  clouds  of  earth,  asunder, 

Now  I  rise  from  this  dull  sod ; 
Jesus,  Lord,  receive  me  yonder — 

Take,  oh  take  me  home  to  God. 


AFFLICTION. 

I  cannot  call  affliction  sweet, 
And  yet  'twas  good  to  bear ; 

Affliction  brought  me  to  thy  feet, 
And  I  found  comfort  there. 

My  weaned  soul  was  all  resign' d 

To  thy  most  glorious  will ; 
Oh  !  had  I  kept  that  better  mind, 

Or  been  afflicted  still ! 

Where  are  the  vows  which  then  I  vow'd, 
The  joys  which  then  I  knew  ? 

Those  vanish'd  like  the  morning  cloud, 
These  like  the  early  dew. 

Lord,  grant  me  grace  for  every  day, 

Whate'er  my  state  may  be  ; 
Through  life,  in  death,  with  truth  to  say, 

"  My  God  is  all  to  me." 


IN    SORROW. 

"  It  is  thy  hand,  my  God  ! 

My  sorrow  comes  from  Thee  : 
I  bow  beneath  thy  chastening  rod — 
'Tis  love  that  bruises  me. 

"  I  would  not  murmur,  Lord  ; 
Before  Thee  I  am  dumb, 
Lest  I  should  breathe  one  murmuring  word 
To  Thee  for  help  I  come. 

"  My  God,  thy  name  is  love, 
A  Father's  hand  is  thine ; 
With  tearful  eyes  I  look  above, 
And  cry  '  Thy  will  be  mine.' 


"  I  know  thy  will  is  right, 

Though  it  may  seem  severe  ; 
Thy  path  is  still  unsullied  light, 
Though  dark  it  oft  appear. 


IN  SORROW. 


"  Jesus  for  me  hath  died, 

Thy  Son  Thou  didst  not  spare ; 
His  pierced  hands,  his  bleeding  side 
Thy  love  for  me  declare. 


21 


"  Here  my  poor  heart  can  rest, 
My  God,  it  cleaves  to  Thee  ; 
Thy  will  is  love,  thine  end  is  best, 
All  work  for  good  to  me." 


Deck. 


AFFLICTION. 

Let  not  the  godly  man  affliction  fear, 

God  wrestle  may  with  some,  but  none  over- 
throws ; 

Who  gives  the  burden  gives  the  strength  to  bear, 

And  best  reward  the  greatest  service  owes. 

Those  who  would  reap,  they  at  the  first  must 
hear 

God's   love,   his   faith   a  good  man's  trouble 

shews. 
Those  whom  God  tries,  He  gives  them  power  to 

stand, 

He  Jacob  tossed,  and  helped  both  by  one  hand. 

William  Alexander,  Earl  of  Stirling. 


LIGHT   IN  THE   DARK  VALLEY. 

Ah  !  I  shall  soon  be  dying, 
Time  swiftly  glides  away  ; 

But  on  my  Lord  relying, 
I  hail  the  happy  day; — 

The  day  when  I  shall  enter 
Upon  a  world  unknown  ; 

My  helpless  soul  I  venture 
On  Jesus  Christ  alone. 


He  once  a  spotless  victim 
Upon  Mount  Calvary  bled  ! 

Jehovah  did  afflict  Him, 

And  bruise  Him  in  my  stead. 

Hence  all  my  hope  arises, 

Unworthy  as  I  am  ; 
My  soul  most  surely  prizes 

The  sin-atoning  Lamb. 


216  LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 

To  Him  by  grace  united, 
I  joy  in  Him  alone ; 

And  now,  by  faith,  delighted 
Behold  Him  on  his  throne. 

There  He  is  interceding 
For  all  who  on  Him  rest ; 

The  grace  from  Him  proceeding 
Shall  waft  me  to  his  breast. 

Then,  with  the  saints  in  glory, 
The  grateful  song  I'll  raise, 

And  chant  my  blissful  story 
In  high  seraphic  lays. 


CONFLICT. 

Oh  !  there  are  sorrows  deep  and  hidden, 

Which  He  who  made  the  heart  alone  can  know ; 

When  dark  temptation's  waves  are  bidden, 
The  weak,  the  weary  heart  to  overflow. 

Crush'd  to  the  earth,  yet  struggling,  striving, 
To  hide  or  overcome  the  war  within  ; 

Yet  left  to  feel  the  foe  with  strength  reviving, 
The  bondage  harder  still  of  grief  and  sin. 


The  captive  cries — but  closer,  closer  binding, 
His  chains  around  him  seem  the  more  to  cling ; 

The  weak  one  prays,  and  prays  without  his  finding 
That  prayer  does  his  desired  deliverance  bring. 

And  can  it  be  that  Thou,  the  God  of  power, 

Hast  failed? — that  thy  compassions  cease  to  flow? 

Wilt  Thou  not  save  me  in  this  trying  hour  ? 

Thou  who  dost  all  my  depth  of  anguish  know  '. 


2l8 


LYRA   CONSOLATIONIS. 


Yes  ;  all  its  bitterness  before  Thee 

My  heart  hath  oft-times  poured  forth  in  prayer ; 
Thou,  who  when  agony  came  o'er  Thee, 

Didst  pray — oh  !  save  me  from  despair  ! 

Vainly  to  friends  I  look  for  pity, 

My  soul's  dark  griefs  they  cannot  feel  or  know ; 
But,  Lord,  I  leave  my  sorrows  with  Thee, 

For  Thou  alone  hast  power  to  heal  my  woe. 

C.  H.  J. 


DIVINE  COMFORT. 


O  Lord  !  across  our  path  of  woe, 

Some  rays  of  heavenly  comfort  fling  ; 

Increase  of  love  and  faith  bestow, 

And  they  their  sister  hope  shall  bring. 

We  wander  in  perplexing  ways ; — 
The  tempter  prompts  us  to  despair ; 

In  murmurings  seeks  to  stifle  praise  ; 
In  hopelessness  to  silence  prayer. 

It  is  in  love,  O  Lord,  we  fail ; 

For  ever,  by  love's  glances  keen, 
In  death,  and  sorrow's  darkest  vale, 

Thy  mercies  through  the  mist  are  seen. 

O  Lord  !  we  are  of  little  faith  ! 

If  Thou  indeed  hast  sent  from  heaven 
Thy  son  for  man  to  suffer  death, 

Hast  Thou  not  with  Him  all  things  given  ? 


220 


LYRA   C0NS0LATI0NIS. 


Teach  us  that  wondrous  love  to  feel ; — 

So,' when  a  sword  has  pierced  us  through, 

That  thought  doubt's  maddening  wound  shall  heal, 

And  kindle  dying  hope  anew. 

Anstie. 


REMEMBER   ME. 

O  Thou,  from  whom  all  goodness  flows  ! 

I  lift  my  soul  to  Thee ; 
In  all  my  sorrows,  conflicts,  woes, 

Good  Lord,  remember  me. 

When  on  my  aching,  burdened  heart, 

My  sins  lie  heavily, 
My  pardon  speak,  new  peace  impart ; — 

In  love  remember  me. 


When  trials  sore  obstruct  my  way, 

And  ills  I  cannot  flee, 
Lord  let  my  strength  be  as  my  day  •- 

For  good  remember  me. 

If  worn  with  pain,  disease,  and  grief, 
This  feeble  frame  should  be, 

Grant  patience,  rest,  and  kind  reliefs- 
Hear,  and  remember  vie. 


222 


LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 


When  in  the  solemn  hour  of  death, 

I  wait  thy  just  decree  ; 

Saviour,  with  my  last  parting  breath 

I'll  cry,  remember  me. 

Humphries. 


VALUE    OF   AFFLICTIONS. 


So  till  men's  persons  great  afflictions  touch 
(If  worth  be  found)  their  worth  is  not  so  much, 
Because,  like  wheat,  in  straw,  they  have  not,  yet, 
That  value,  which  in  threshing,  they  may  get. 
For  till  the  bruising  flailes  of  God's  corrections, 
Have  threshed  out  of  us  our  vaine  affections ; 
Till  those  corruptions,  which  doe  misbecome  us, 
Are  by  thy  Sacred  Spirit  winnowed  from  us ; 
Until,  from  us,  the  straw  of  worldly-treasures  ; 
Till  all  the  dusty  chaffe  of  empty  pleasures ; 
Yea,  till  his  flaile  upon  us  he  doth  lay, 
To  thresh  the  huske  of  this  our  flesh  away ; 
And  leave  the  soule  uncovered ;  nay,  yet  more, 
Till  God  shall  make  our  very  Spirit  poore ; 

We  shall  not  up  to  highest  wealth  aspire ; 

But,  then  we  shall ;  and  that  is  my  desire. 

Wither. 


THE    MOURNER'S    HYMN. 

The  hopes  that  made  my  gladness 
Have  perished  one  by  one, 

And  now  in  deepest  sadness 
I  sit  and  mourn  alone. 


My  sin  hath  brought  my  sorrow. 
And  Thou  art  righteous  still : 

From  earth  I  will  not  borrow 
False  joy,  my  cup  to  fill. 

Beneath  my  burden  sighing, 
Not  one  can  comfort  me ; 

Before  thine  altar  lying, 
My  God,  I  wait  for  Thee. 

In  anguish  I  have  striven 

To  say — "  Thy  will  be  done  ;" 

Oh  !  may  the  strength  be  given 
Which  comes  from  Thee  alone. 


THE  MOURNERS  HYMN.  225 

Tis  well  that  Thou  hast  taken 

Mine  idol-gods  away ; 
But  why  hast  Thou  forsaken  ? 

Mine  everlasting  stay  ! 

When  Thou  hast  pardon  spoken 

In  other  times  to  me, 
The  spirit's  bands  were  broken, 

I  felt  that  I  was  free. 

Would  that,  thy  blood  receiving, 
Mine  heart  might  be  at  ease  : 

Would  that,  thy  word  believing, 
I  might  go  forth  in  peace  ! 

Then,  towards  thy  kingdom  pressing, 
Life's  struggle  would  be  brief, 

And  still  the  mourner's  blessing 
Should  calm  the  mourner's  grief. 

E.  C.  C.  B. 


THE  DAYS  OF  THY  MOURNING  SHALL 
BE  ENDED. 

Hear  what  God  the  Lord  hath  spoken  : 

"  O,  my  people,  faint  and  few ; 
Comfortless,  afflicted,  broken, — 

Fair  abodes  I  build  for  you  : 
Thorns  of  heartfelt  tribulation 

Shall  no  more  perplex  your  ways ; 
You  shall  name  your  walls  Salvation, 

And  your  gates  shall  all  be  Praise. 


"  There,  like  streams  that  feed  the  garden, 

Pleasures  without  end  shall  flow ; 
For  the  Lord,  your  faith  rewarding, 

All  his  bounty  shall  bestow  : 
Still,  in  undisturbed  possession, 

Peace  and  righteousness  shall  reign ; 
Never  shall  you  feel  oppression, — 

Hear  the  voice  of  war  again. 


THE  DAYS  OF  MOURNING  ENDED.     227 

"  Ye,  no  more  your  suns  descending, 
Waning  moons,  no  more  shall  see ; 

But  your  griefs,  for  ever  ending, 
Find  eternal  noon  in  me  : 

God  shall  rise,  and  shining  o'er  you, 
Change  to  day  the  gloom  of  night ; 

He,  the  Lord,  shall  be  your  glory — 

God,  your  everlasting  light." 

Cowper. 


HOPE  THOU    IN    GOD. 

Thou  child  of  God  in  sorrow, 
Hope  for  a  brighter  day, 

The  sunshine  of  the  morrow, 
Shall  chase  thy  griefs  away. 

Though  racking  pain  distress  thee 
And  shake  thy  weary  frame, 

A  Saviour's  love  shall  bless  thee, 
In  sickness  prove  the  same. 

Thy  Brother's  eye  beholds  thee, 
His  heart  feels  all  thy  woes ; 

His  mighty  arm  upholds  thee, 
Thine  every  care  He  knows. 


Earth's  rest  is  all  polluted, 
And  would  thy  soul  destroy  ; 

Thou'rt  from  this  world  uprooted, 
To  find  in  Him  thy  joy. 


HOPE  THOU  IN  GOD. 

Thy  former  friends  may  leave  thee, 
Companions  may  be  few, 

But  will  not  Christ  receive  thee, 
The  faithful  and  the  true  ? 


229 


Thy  tried  and  lonely  spirit 
Thirsts  for  the  living  God, 

And  pleads  alone  the  merit 
Of  rich  redeeming  blood. 

Shrink  not  because  He  chastens, 

But  to  the  end  endure ; 
Each  thrill  of  anguish  hastens 

The  hour  of  perfect  cure. 

Take  up  a  song  of  gladness 

While  bruised  beneath  the  rod  ; 

Triumphant  over  sadness, 
Witness  before  thy  God. 

Proclaim  his  sov'reign  power 
O'er  suffering  and  disease, 

And  in  afflictions  hour, 
Tell  of  the  spirit's  peace. 


E.  C.  C.  B. 


BITTER-SWEET. 

Yes  ;  every  heart  its  sorrow  knows, 
And  deep  within  its  inmost  cell, 

Its  cup  of  bitterness  o'erflows  ; 

A  cup  of  secret,  silent  woes, 
Of  which  it  may  not  tell. 

No  stranger's  ear  is  tuned  to  hear ; 

No  stranger's  heart  can  know  or  feel ; 
No  bosom  friend,  however  dear, 
However  loved,  may  venture  near, 

Its  sacred  wound  to  heal. 


But  there  is  One  who  feels  it  all, 

Whose  riven  heart  deep  sorrow  knew, 

Whose  bitter  cup  was  drugged  with  gall ; 

He  listens  to  thy  whispered  call, 
To  every  whisper  true. 


BITTERS  WEE  T.  231 

Each  sigh  makes  music  in  his  ear, 
For  oh  !  his  heart  to  thine  replies  ; 

"  'Tis  I,"  He  whispers  ;  "  do  not  fear, 

I  come  to  wipe  thine  every  tear, 
To  quell  thy  rising  sighs. 

"  I  wept  that  I  might  know  to  weep, 

With  all  my  precious,  ransom'd  saints  ; 
Their  tears,  their  sighs,  I  treasured  keep, 
I  feel  their  woes  however  deep, 
For  mine  are  their  complaints." 

Then  cast  thy  burden  all  on  Him, 

Nor  longer  call  thy  griefs  thine  own ; 

He  turns  from  harps  of  seraphim, 

To  brighten  up  that  eye  so  dim 
Which  looks  to  Him  alone. 

C.  Sabine. 


SONG  OF  THE  NEW  HEAVENS  AND  NEW 

EARTH. 

Oh,  past  are  the  Fast  Days,  the  Feast  Day,  the 

Feast  Day  is  come, 
The  solitude  endeth,  the  Guest  most   beloved  is 

come. 
Deserted  one,  thou  hast  deserted  thy  desert  at  last  ! 
O  love  !  the  Beloved,  who  cannot  desert  thee,  is 

come ; 
And  sever'd  the  severing;   departed  for  ever  the 

parting ; 
And  met  is  the  meeting  :  the  One,  the  most  blessed, 

is  come  !  • 

The  fleeting  has  fleeted  ;  the  ban  of  the  Exile  is 

banish'd  ; 
Far  distant  the  distance  ;  the  Bird  to  the  nestlings 

is  come  ! 
The  Moon  to  the  sky,  to  the  desolate  garden  the  Rose, 
To  the  palace  forsaken  the  King  in  his  glory  is  come, 
The  Life  to  the  root,  and  the  Sap  to  the  height  of  the 

tree  : 


THE  NEW  HEAVENS  AND  EARTH.    233 

The  Wreath  to  the  sprays,  and  the  Crown  to  the 

branches,  is  come  ! 
And  now  let  him  come ;    the  assaulter  who  fain 

would  assault  me  ; 
I  am  safe  in  the  Tower ;  my  Tower  of  shelter  is 

come  ! 
Now  cast  on  me  ever  and  ever  the  fire  of  love  : 
I  fear  not  the  fire ;  my  Robe  of  Asbestos  is  come  ! 
As  soon  as  they  heard  it,  that  Thou  with  salvation 

wert  nigh  : 
Behold  every  heart,  heavy  laden  with  sorrow,  is  come ! 
O  Vessel  of  Fulness,  pour'd  out  for  the  thirst  of  the 

worlds, 
We  thank  Thee,  we  thank  Thee  !  to  us  thy  refreshing 

is  come  ! 
For  long  came  no  breeze  to  the  deserts  unblest ; 

and  now  One 
With  wings    which   the  dew    of  all   blessing  has 

moisten'd,  is  come  ! 
We  have  waited  till  voice  of  the   Spring  should 

awaken  the  dead  : 
Behold,  from  the  East  to  the  West  the  Spring-glory 

is  come  ! 

From  the  German 
(/;/  Songs  of  Eternal  Life). 


* 


PEACE   BE   WITH    YOU! 

Peace  be  with  you  !  saith  the  Lord ; 
Is  not  this  a  glorious  word? 
To  the  heart  it  brings  relief, 
From  disquiet,  pain,  and  grief; 
Care  removing  instantly, 
Glorious  word  of  victory  ! 

Glorious  word  of  victory  ! 

Strengthened  now  and  cheered  by  thee, 

While  I  walk  the  narrow  way, 

All  my  fetters  fall  away ; 

Still  thou  soundest  full  and  free, 

Glorious  word  of  victory  ! 

Glorious  word  of  victory  ! 
Sounding  ever  cheeringly, 
Till  all  anxious  storms  subside, 
And  I  hear  on  every  side 
Sound  the  glorious  proclamation, 
Perfect  reconciliation. 


PEACE  BE  WITH  YOU! 


235 


Sacred,  peaceful  salutation  ! 
Now  the  fruits  of  this  salvation 
.Ever  shall  remain  with  me, 
In  time  and  through  eternity ; 
Sounding  thus  continually, 
Glorious  word  of  victory  ! 


Thollxk. 


THANKFUL   JOY. 

Oh,  there  is  a  bed,  that  was  hewn  in  stone, 
Where  He  lay  who  was  nailed  to  the  tree  ! 
'Twas  there  my  Lord  lay,  all  alone. 
And  there's  the  rest  for  me. 

And  there  was  a  dew,  all  silvery  bright, 
It  fell  on  plain  and  lee ; 
They  gather'd  it  fresh,  at  the  morning  light, 
And  sweet's  its  taste  to  me. 

And  there  was  a  rushing  mighty  wind, 
It  blew  o'er  a  bloody  sea ; 
It  breathes  a  calm  for  my  troubled  mind, 
A  Comforter  for  me. 


And  there  was  a  gale  when  the  day-star  rose  ; 
His  shining  clear  I  see  ; 
My  mind,  in  his  beams,  revives  and  glows, 
And  all  is  life  with  me. 


THANKFUL  JOY. 


237 


And  there  was  a  flower,  which  sprung  from  the  tomb, 

When  the  days  had  number'd  three ; 

Upon  my  heart  that  flower  shall  bloom, 

Eternal  joy  for  me. 

Bull. 


THE    NIGHT    SONG. 

Open  to  Me,  my  sister, 

My  dove,  my  undefiled  ! 
Fair  solitary  lily 

Of  all  this  thorny  wild. 
Oh,  let  Me  see  thy  countenance, 

Oh,  let  Me  hear  thy  voice ; 
For  pleasant  are  thy  tone,  thy  glance, 

They  make  my  heart  rejoice. 


Open  to  Me,  my  sister  ! 

Chill  is  the  faint  moonlight ; 
My  head  is  filled  with  dew-damp, 

My  locks  with  drops  of  night. 
Thou  know'st  not  thy  Beloved's  voice, 

His  knocking  at  thy  door ; 
Strange  on  thine  ear  his  pleadings  fall, 

They  melt  thy  heart  no  more. 


THE  NIGHT  SONG,  239 

Open  to  Me.  my  sister  ! 

Look  on  Me  now,  and  see 
What  I  have  braved  in  battle, 

And  all  for  love  of  thee. 
The  thorny  crown  my  visage  marr'd, 

The  sharp  spear  pierced  my  side ; 
The  nails  my  hands  and  feet  have  scarr'd, 

My  wounds  were  deep  and  wide.    . 

Open  to  Me,  my  sister  ! 

I  love,  I  linger  yet ; 
While  fast  the  moon  is  waning, 

And  stars  begin  to  set. 
When  o'er  yon  hills  to  thee  I  sped, 

My  step  was  glad  and  fleet ; 
But  sad  and  slow  will  be  the  tread 

Of  my  retiring  feet, 

Open  to  Me,  my  sister  \ 

Oh,  wilt  thou  not  invite 
The  world's  outcast  wayfarer 

To  tarry  for  a  night  ? 
The  mountain  foxes  have  their  hole, 

The  sky-birds  have  their  nest ; 
But,  save  in  thy  surrendered  soul, 

I  have  not  where  to  rest.  A.  R.  C. 


CHRIST   MY  JOY. 

Jesus,  my  lovinge  spouse, 

Eternall  veritie ; 
Perfect  guide  of  my  soule, 

Way  to  eternitie ; 
Strengthen  me  with  thy  grace, 

From  Thee  I'll  never  flee, 
Let  them  all  say  what  they  will, 

Jesu,  come  Thou  to  me. 

Poore  men  seeke  others'  wealth, 

Blinde  men  seeke  libertie, 
Crazed  corpses  (sick  bodies)  cry  for  health, 

All  seeke  prosperitie. 
I  nothinge  seeke  but  Christ, 

He  alone  please th  me  ; 
Let  them  all  say  what  they  will, 

Jesu,  come  Thou  to  me. 


CHRIST  MY  JOY.  241 

Fervent  love  longeth  sore 

His  lady's  face  to  see ; 
Discarded  courtiers  seeke 

In  princes'  grace  to  be. 
Xoe  want  nor  woe  I  feel 

Whilst  I  doe  enjoy  Thee  ; 
Let  them  all  say  what  they  will, 

Jesu,  come  Thou  to  me. 

What  can  this  wretched  world, 

Repleat  with  miserie, 
Yield  to  delight  my  soule, 

Made  for  eternitie. 
All  is  vaine,  all  is  fraile, 

All  that  compared  to  Thee ; 
And  earthlie  things  doe  faile  ; 

Jesu,  come  Thou  to  me. 

Tho'  the  world  tempt  me  sore  ; 

Tho'  the  flesh  trouble  me ; 
Tho'  the  devil  would  devoure ; 

My  refuge  is  to  Thee. 
Tho'  heaven  and  earthe  cloe  faile, 

Tho'  all  perplexed  be, 
Thou  art,  and  ever  shall 

My  chiefest  comfort  be. 


R 


242 


L  YRA  CONSOLA  TJONIS. 


Thou  art  my  Saviour  sweete, 

Foode  and  delight  to  me, 
A  medicine  most  meete 

To  each  infirmitie. 
To  my  taste  honey  sweete, 

To  my  eare  melodie, 
Perfect  guide  to  my  feete, 

To  my  heart  jubilee. 

From  an  old  MS.  in  the 
British  Museum. 


AN   OLD   EPITAPH. 


Here  lies  the  ruined  cabinet 

Of  a  rich  soul,  more  highly  set. 

The  dross  and  refuse  of  a  mind 

Too  glorious  to  be  here  confined. 

Earth  for  a  while  bespoke  his  stay, 

Only  to  bait,  and  so  away ; 

So  that  what  here  he  doated  on 

Was  merely  accommodation. 

Not  that  his  active  soul  could  be 

At  home,  but  in  eternity. 

Yet  while  he  blest  us  with  his  rays 

Of  his  short  continued  days, 

Each  minute  had  its  weight  of  worth, 

Each  pregnant  hour  some  star  brought  forth. 

So  whiles  he  travelled  here  beneath, 

He  lived,  when  others  only  breathe. 


244 


LYRA    CONSOLATIONIS. 


For  not  a  sand  of  time  slipped  by 
Without  its  action  sweet  as  high  : 
So  good,  so  peaceable,  so  blest, 
Angels  alone  can  speak  the  rest. 

Cleveland. 


i 


NOT  MY  WILL,   BUT  THINE  BE  DONE. 

"  Father  !  not  my  will,  but  Thine  ;" 
Let  this  be  my  daily  prayer 
Taught  me  by  those  lips  divine, 
Taught  me  by  affliction's  Heir, 
By  "  The  Man  of  Sorrows  "  breathed — 
He  for  whom  earth's  thorns  were  wreathed. 


"  Father  I  not  my  will,  but  Thine  ;" 
Choose  for  me  my  lot — my  way ; 
If  thy  smiles  around  me  shine, 

vSorrows  night  will  turn  to  day ; 
Thunder-clouds  be  tinged  with  gold, 
Flowers  will  spring,  though  winds  be  cold. 

"  Father  !  not  my  will,  but  Thine  ;" 
Though  I  lay  my  throbbing  head 

4 

On  a  couch  bedewed  with  brine, 
Tears  were  Jesu's  daily  bread ; 
Through  the  tears  Thou  bidst  to  flow 
Smiles  a  radiant  promise-bow. 


246  LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 

"  Father  !  not  my  will,  but  Thine  ;" 
Help  me  to  believe  Thee  true, 
Though  the  corn,  the  oil,  the  wine. 

Fail  for  lack  of  rain  and  dew  : 
When  the  springs  of  earth  are  dry, 
Thou  canst  all  my  need  supply. 

"  Father  !  not  my  will,  but  Thine  ;" 
Friends  may  leave  me  all  alone  ; 

Foes  with  kinsmen  may  combine  ; 
Those  I  love  my  name  disown ; 

Still  a  Father  Thou  wilt  prove ; 

Naught  can  change  my  Father's  love. 

Whatsoe'er  my  lot  may  be, 

Passing  through  this  vale  of  tears, 

Pain,  or  scorn,  or  penury, 

Few  my  yet  remaining  years ; 

Never  let  thy  child  repine, 

"  Father  !  not  my  will,  but  Thine  !" 

C.  Sabine. 


ISRAEL'S  CRY. 

Rock  and  refuge  of  my  soul, 
Swiftly  let  the  season  roll, 
When  thine  Israel  shall  arise 
Lovely  in  the  nation's  eyes  ! 

Lord  of  glory,  Lord  of  might, 
As  our  ransom'd  fathers  tell, 

Once  more  for  thy  people  fight, 
Plead  for  thy  loved  Israel. 

Give  our  spoilers  towers  to  be 

Waste  and  desolate  as  we. 


Hasten,  Lord,  the  joyful  year, 
When  thy  Zion,  tempest-toss' d, 

Shall  the  silver  trumpet  hear, 
Bring  glad  tidings  to  the  lost ! 

Captive,  cast  thy  cords  from  thee, 

Loose  thy  neck,  be  free,  be  free. 


248  LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 

Why  dost  thou  behold  our  sadness  1 

See  the  proud  have  torn  away- 
All  our  years  of  solemn  gladness, 
When  thy  flock  kept  holiday  ! 
Lord  thy  fruitful  vine  is  bare, 
Not  one  gleaning  grape  is  there  ! 

Rock  and  refuge  of  my  soul, 
Swiftly  let  the  season  roll, 
When  thine  Israel  shall  be 
Once  again  beloved  and  free  ! 

M'Cheyne,  from  the  Hebrew. 


THE    SHADOW    OF    THE    CROSS. 

O  Saviour,  let  my  wearied  spirit  rest 

Beneath  the  shadow  of  thy  cross,  and  send 

Sweet  thoughts  of  peace  to  soothe  my  troubled  breast, 
And  o'er  my  soul  their  dove-like  wings  extend. 

"Where  shall  I  cast  the  burden  of  my  life, 
The  burden  of  my  sins,  if  not  on  Thee  1 

My  soul  is  grieved  and  wearied  with  the  strife 
Of  this  rude  world  ;  receive  and  comfort  me. 


Beneath  the  shadow  of  the  cross,  thy  child 
Shall  find  a  refuge  and  a  calm  retreat, 

Where  sainted  souls,  with  heaven  reconciled, 
Await  the  hour  when  earth  and  heaven  meet. 

From  the  "  Dove  on  the  Cross." 


THE    SHEPHERD    AND    THE    REST. 

O  gentle  Shepherd,  guided  by  thy  hand, 
My  soul  hath  found  her  everlasting  rest ; 

Thou  leadest  me  towards  my  Father-land, 

And  on  the  way  thy  presence  makes  me  blest 

Sadly  and  wearily  I  went  along, 

Tumult  and  vain  unrest  on  every  hand, 

Until  Thou  drew'st  me  from  the  noisy  throng, 
And  brought  me  to  a  quiet  pasture-land  ! 

And  ah,  what  sweetness  I  experience  there  ! 

The  blue  sky  crystal  clear,  and  from  the  trees 
A  thousand  balmy  odours  fill  the  air, 

Borne  on  the  pinions  of  the  vernal  breeze. 


For  heart  and  eye  how  rich  the  pasture  spread  ! 

When  with  unceasing  change  by  day  and  night, 
Tike  a  fair  garb  with  jewels  all  inlaid, 

A  veil  of  freshest  flowers  enchants  my  sight. 


THE  SHEPHERD  AND  THE  REST.     251 

The  noonday  sun,  unveiled  by  envious  clouds, 
Calls  forth  their  varying  tints  in  hues  of  light ; 

And  when  in  evening  shade  his  beams  he  shrouds, 
The  violets  yield  their  fragrance  to  the  night. 

How  well  the  unbroken  calm,  so  deep  and  still, 
My  soul  refreshes, — long  with  tumult  filled  : 

And  now,  methinks,  my  undivided  will, 
May  to  my  Shepherd's  will  for  ever  yield. 

Tholuck. 


TRUST. 

When  all  beneath  the  ample  cope  of  heaven 
I  saw  like  clouds  before  the  tempest  driven, 
In  sad  vicissitudes  eternal  round, 
A  while  I  stood  in  silent  sadness  borne, 
And  thus  at  last  with  self-exploring  mind, 
Musing,  I  asked,  "  What  basis  can  I  find 
To  fix  my  trust?"     A  heavenly  voice  replied, 
"  Trust  in  thy  God  ;  He  all  thy  steps  shall  guide, 
He  never  fails  to  hear  the  trusting  prayer ; — 
But  worldly  hope  must  end  in  dull  despair." 

Petrarch. 


i^tz 


THE    BORDER-LAXDS. 

Father,  into  thy  loving  hands 

My  feeble  spirit  I  commit, 
While  wandering  in  these  border-lands 

Until  thy  voice  shall  summon  it. 

Father.  I  would  not  dare  to  choose 
A  longer  life,  an  earlier  death ; 

I  know  not  what  my  soul  might  lose 
By  shortened  or  protracted  breath. 

These  border-lands  are  calm  and  still, 
And  solemn  are  their  silent  shades ; 

And  my  heart  welcomes  them,  until 
The  light  of  life's  long  evening  fades. 


I  heard  them  spoken  of  with  dread, 
As  fearful  and  unquiet  places  : 

Shades,  where  the  living  and  the  dead 
Look  sadly  in  each  others  faces. 


254  LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 

But  since  thy  hand  hath  led  me  here, 
And  I  have  seen  the  border-land, 

Seen  the  dark  river  flowing  near, 
Stood  on  its  brink,  as  now  I  stand ; 

There  has  been  nothing  to  alarm 

My  trembling  soul ;  how  could  I  fear 

While  thus  encircled  with  thine  arm  1 
I  never  felt  Thee  half  so  near. 

What  should  appal  me  in  a  place 
That  brings  me  hourly  nearer  Thee  1 

Where  I  may  almost  see  thy  face — 
Surely  'tis  here  my  soul  would  be. 

They  say  the  waves  are  dark  and  deep, 
That  faith  has  perished  in  the  river ; 

They  speak  of  death  with  fear,  and  weep, 
Shall  my  soul  perish  1  never,  never. 


I  know  that  Thou  wilt  never  leave 
The  soul  that  trembles  while  it  clings 

To  Thee ;  I  know  Thou  wilt  achieve 
Its  passage  on  thine  outspread  wings. 


THE  BORDER-LANDS.  255 

And  since  I  first  was  brought  so  near 
The  stream  that  flows  to  the  Dead  Sea, 

I  think  that  it  has  grown  more  clear 
And  shallow  than  it  used  to  be. 

I  cannot  see  the  golden  gate 

Unfolding  yet  to  welcome  me ; 
I  cannot  yet  anticipate 

The  joy  of  heaven's  jubilee. 

But  I  will  calmly  watch  and  pray, 
Until  I  hear  my  Saviour's  voice 

Calling  my  happy  soul  away 
To  see  his  glory  and  rejoice. 

From  the  "  Dove  on  the  Cross." 


APPREHENSION. 

Oh  !  save  me  from  this  hour  : 

In  trembling  and  in  fear 
My  flesh  and  heart  cry  out  to  Thee 
For  it  is  drawing  near. 
Jesus,  no  eye  but  thine  alone  can  see 
My  utter  helplessness,  my  misery. 

The  cross  is  sharp,  O  Lord, 

And  difficult  to  bear ; 
Yet  to  refuse  it  at  thy  hands, 
Thy  servant  would  not  dare. 
Help  me  to  take  it  up,  and  follow  Thee 
Through  shame  and  pain,  to  dark  Gethsemane. 


There  would  I  look  on  Thee, 

Thou  Saviour  in  thy  woe, 
Bleeding  in  agony  for  me, 
Bowed  meekly  down  so  low ; 
There  would  I  learn  submission  to  thy  will, 
Till  my  rebellious  heart  is  calm  and  still. 


HOLY   TEARS. 

Yes,  thou  mayest  weep,  for  Jesus  shed 
Such  tears  as  those  thou  sheddest  now. 

When,  for  the  living  or  the  dead, 
Sorrow  lay  heavy  on  his  brow. 

He  sees  thee  weep,  yet  doth  not  blame 
The  weakness  of  thy  flesh  and  heart ; 

Thy  human  nature  is  the  same 
As  that  in  which  He  took  a  part. 


He  knows  its  weakness,  for  he  felt 
The  crushing  power  of  pain  and  woe, 

How  body,  soul,  and  spirit  melt 

And  faint  beneath  the  stunning  blow. 

What,  if  poor  sinners  count  thy  grief 
The  sign  of  an  unchastened  will  ? 

He  who  can  give  thy  soul  relief, 

Knows  that  thou  art  submissive  still. 


258  LYRA   CONSOLATIONIS. 

Turn  thee  to  Him,  to  Him  alone ; 

For  all  that  our  poor  lips  can  say 
To  soothe  thee,  broken-hearted  one, 

Would  fail  to  comfort  thee  to-day. 

We  will  not  speak  to  thee,  but  sit 
In  prayerful  silence  by  thy  side ; 

Grief  has  its  ebbs  and  flows  ;  'tis  fit 
Our  love  should  wait  the  ebbing  tide. 

Jesus  himself  will  comfort  thee, 
In  his  own  time,  in  his  own  way, 

And  haply  more  than  "  two  or  three  " 
Unite  in  prayer  for  thee  to-day. 

From  the  "  Dove  on  the  Cross." 


WHOM  HAVE  I  IN  HEAVEN  BUT  THEE. 

To  Thee  my  heart  would  tell  its  griefs,  O  Lord, 
My  burning  tears  into  thy  bosom  flow, 

For  thou  hast  promised  in  thy  faithful  Word 
That  thou  wilt  bear  the  weight  of  all  my  woe. 

And  I  am  thine  !      O  that  my  life  were  spent 
In  doing  only  all  thy  righteous  will ; 

That  I  might  walk,  on  holiness  intent, 
And  every  hour  delight  to  love  Thee  still. 

Yes ;  I  with  joy  from  every  sin  would  flee, 
Xor  for  a  moment  should  my  heart  delay ; 

But  speak  the  word,  and  that  one  word  from  Thee 
I  would  with  willingness  at  once  obey. 


When  shall  the  hour  of  my  deliverance  be  ? 

When  shall  the  law  of  death  no  more  remain  1 
When,  my  dear  Saviour,  shall  I  joyful  see 

Thy  love  alone  within  my  bosom  reign  ? 


26o 


LYRA  CONSOLATJONIS. 


Till  that  blest  day,  thy  aid  would  I  entreat, 
Inspire  me  as  the  conflict  I  renew  j 

My  safety  is  in  thee — thy  work  complete  ; 
O,  be  my  Rock,  and  my  Redeemer  too  ! 

Malan. 


jU*/  /         ^\ 


THE    HIDING-PLACE. 

O  welcome  hiding-place  !     O  refuge  meet 

For  fainting  pilgrims,  on  this  desert  way  ! 

O  kind  Conductor  of  these  wandering  feet, 

Through  snares  and  darkness,  to  the  realms  of  day 

Soon  did  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  display 

His  healing  beams ;  each  gloomy  cloud  dispel  : 

While  on  the  parting  mist,  in  colours  gay, 

Truth's  cheering  bow  of  precious  promise  fell, 

And  Mercy's  silver  voice  soft  whispered, — "  All  is 

well." 

D.  Huntingdon  (American). 


RETIREMENT. 

I  love  to  steal  awhile  away 
From  every  cumbering  care, 

And  spend  the  hours  of  setting  day 
In  humble,  grateful  prayer. 

I  love  in  solitude  to  shed 

The  penitential  tear ; 
And  all  his  promises  to  plead, 

Where  none  but  God  can  hear. 

I  love  to  think  on  mercies  past, 
And  future  good  implore, 

And  all  my  sighs  and  sorrows  cast 
On  Him  whom  I  adore. 


I  love  by  faith  to  take  a  view 
Of  brighter  scenes  in  heaven  : 

Such  prospects  oft  my  strength  renew, 
While  here  by  tempests  driven. 


RETIREMENT. 


26 


Thus,  when  life's  toilsome  day  is  o'er, 

May  its  departing  ray 
Be  calm  as  this  impressive  hour, 

And  lead  to  endless  day. 

Anon.  (American.) 


I  AM  WITH  YOU. 

No  more  let  sorrow  cloud  your  eye, 

Nor  fears  your  spirit  fill ; 
Though  now  the  parting  hour  is  nigh, 

My  heart  is  with  you  still. 
My  Father  sent  me  from  above, 

His  mercy's  brightest  sign, 
And  if  you  trust  his  changeless  love, 

Oh,  wherefore  doubt  of  mine  1 


The  stretching  shadow  of  the  cross 

Now  overcasts  my  soul ; 
You  sorrow  for  the  coming  loss, 

I  long  to  reach  the  goal. 
My  love  must  first  be  tried  by  death 

Before  it  prove  its  power, 
And  through  its  triumph  give  you  faith 

For  many  an  evil  hour. 


/  AM  WITH  YOU. 


265 


Dark  days  will  come  when  I  depart, 

But  cast  your  care  on  me, 
And  I,  unseen,  will  keep  the  heart 

From  fear  and  fainting  free. 
The  thorny  path  that  I  have  trod 

Is  also  traced  for  you  ; 
But  where  I  walked  alone  with  God, 

Ye  have  your  Saviour  too. 

J.  D.  Burns. 


THE  HEAVENLY  CITY. 


O  heavenly  Jerusalem 

Of  everlasting  halls  ! 
Thrice  blessed  are  the  people 

Thou  storest  in  thy  walls. 

Thou  art  the  golden  mansion 
Where  saints  for  ever  sing ; 

The  seat  of  God's  own  chosen — 
The  palace  of  the  King. 

There  God  for  ever  sitteth, 
Himself  of  all,  the  crown  ; 

The  Lamb  the  light  that  shineth, 
And  never  goeth  down. 

Nought  to  this  seat  approacheth 
Their  sweet  peace  to  molest ; 

They  praise  their  God  for  ever, 
Nor  day  nor  night  they  rest. 


THE  HE  A  VENLY  CITY.  267 

Calm  Hope  from  thence  is  leaning, 

To  her  our  longings  bend  ; 
No  shortlived  toil  shall  daunt  us 

For  joys  that  cannot  end. 

To  Christ  the  Son,  that  lightens 

His  church,  above,  below  ; 
To  Father  and  to  Spirit 

All  things  created  bow  ! 

Old  Latin  Hymn. 


PATIENCE. 

The  wise  man  grieves  not  that  he  undergoes 
Affliction,  but  because  he  fully  knows 
His  many  sins  deserved  as  many  more, 
If  ten  times  doubl'd,  than  he  did  before. 

Patience  in  things  adverse,  like  stars,  shine 

bright 
And  most  transparent  in  the  darkest  night. 

John  Quarles. 


AS    THOU    WILT. 

This  then  must  be  the  med'cine  for  my  woes, 
To  yield  to  what  my  Saviour  shall  dispose ; 
To  glory  in  my  baseness  ;  to  rejoice 
In  mine  afflictions ;  to  obey  his  voice, 
As  well  when  threatenings  my  defects  reprove, 
As  when  I  cherished  am  with  words  of  love  ; 
To  say  to  Him  in  every  time  and  place — 
Withdraw  thy  comforts,  so  Thou  leave  thy  grace. 

Beaumont. 


SONG   OF    THE    ETERNAL   SABBATH. 

There  is  a  day  of  rest  before  thee — 
Thou  weary  soul,  arise  and  shine  ! 
Awhile  the  clouds  hang  darkly  o'er  thee, 
Awhile  the  captive's  chains  are  thine. 
Behold  the  Lamb  of  God  will  lead  thee 
To  still  green  pastures  round  the  throne. 
Cast  off  thy  burden,  rise  and  speed  thee, 
For  soon  the  battle  storm  is  done, — 
For  soon  the  weary  race  is  past, 
And  thou  shalt  rest  in  love  at  last. 


God  stablished  ere  the  days  of  heaven 

Rest,  gentle  rest,  for  evermore ; 

Men  long  have  wept,  and  toiled  and  striven, 

But  rest  was  ordered  long  before. 
For  this  the  Saviour  left  the  skies, 
The  home  beyond  the  thousand  suns ; — 
He  stretches  forth  his  hands,  and  cries, 
"  Come,  come  to  me  ye  weary  ones  ! 


SONG  OF  THE  ETERNAL  SABBATH.    271 

Ye  long  have  laboured,  come  and  rest, 
Lie  still,  beloved,  on  my  breast." 

Then  come  ye  sorrowful  and  weary,     ; 
Ye  heavy-laden  come  to  Him, 
From  desert  places,  lone  and  dreary, 
With  fainting  heart  and  aching  limb  ! 
For  ye  have  borne  the  heat  of  day, 
And  now  the  hour  of  rest  is  come  ; 
To  you  the  Lord  doth  call  and  say — 
"  My  people  I  will  be  your  home  ! 
Fear  not  for  devil,  world,  and  sin, 
But  saved  and  pardoned  enter  in." 

Come  in,  the  sheaves  of  glory  bringing, 
The  seed-time  of  our  tears  is  past ; 
More  sweet  than  dreams  of  joy  the  singing 
That  fills  our  Father's  house  at  last : 

And  grief,  and  fear,  and  death,  and  pain, 
Are  fled,  and  are  forgotten  things  : 
We  see  the  Lamb  that  once  was  slain, — 
He  leads  us  to  the  living  springs ; 
Himself  he  wipes  our  tears  away — 
Such  blessedness  no  words  can  say. 


272  LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 

The  day  of  deep  refreshing  dawneth, 
No  sun  lights  on  us,  and  no  heat ; 
No  longer  is  there  one  who  mourneth, 
And  there  the  long,  long  severed  meet, 

And  God  Himself  shall  be  with  them. 

They  who  the  weary  desert  trod 

Shall  be  a  royal  diadem 

For  ever  in  the  hand  of  God ; 
All  hail !  thou  glorious  Sabbath-day, 
When  toil  and  strife  are  passed  away  ! 

And  peace  is  round  us  as  a  river, 
And  glory  as  a  flowing  stream  ; 
With  Christ  our  Lord  we  dwell  for  ever, 
For  ever  lean  in  love  on  Him. 

Oh,  had  we  wings  to  flee  away, 

Afar  into  that  holy  home  ! 

Why  seek  we  still  on  earth  to  stay  1 

The  Spirit  and  the  Bride  say,  "  Come." 
Arise  !     Salvation  draweth  near, 
The  everlasting  Sabbath  year  ! 

Johannes  Siegmund  Kunth 

(From  Songs  of  Eternal  Life). 


SOXG   OF   RESIGNATION. 

Thou  sweet  beloved  Will  of  God, 
My  anchor-ground,  my  fortress-hill, 

The  spirit's  silent  fair  abode, 
In  thee  I  hide  me  and  am  still. 


O  Will,  that  wiliest  good  alone, 

Lead  thou  the  way,  thou  guidest  best 

A  silent  child,  I  follow  on, 

And  trusting  lean  upon  thy  breast. 

God's  will  doth  make  the  bitter  sweet, 
And  all  is  good  when  it  is  done ; 

Unless  God's  will  doth  hallow  it, 
The  glory  of  all  joy  is  gone. 

When  Sin  and  World  and  Devil  rave, 
I  think  "  God  wills  that  it  should  be, 

And  He  will  strengthen,  He  will  save  :" 
So  trust  Him  calmly,  joyfully. 


274  LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 

Self,  sense,  and  reason,  they  may  scorn 
That  hidden  way  that  leads  .on  high,- 

Still  be  my  deepest  will  uptorn, 
And  so  the  will  of  nature  die. 

And  if  in  gloom  I  see  thee  not, 
I  lean  upon  thy  love  unknown ; — 

In  me  thy  blessed  will  is  wrought, 
If  I  will  nothing  of  my  own. 

0  spirit  of  a  little  child, 

Of  will  bereft,  all  angel-pure, 

1  seek  thy  glory  undented ; 

Lord,  take  my  will,  thy  love  is  sure. 

O  Will  of  God,  my  soul's  desire, 
My  bread  of  life  in  want  and  pain  : 

O  Will  of  God,  my  guiding  fire, 
Unite  my  will  to  thine  again. 

O  Will,  in  me  thy  work  be  done, 
For  time  and  for  eternity ; 

Give  joy  or  sorrow,  all  is  one, 

To  the  blest  soul  that  loveth  Thee. 


SONG  OF  RE  SIGN  A  TION. 


275 


Lord,  help  me,  kill  this  will  of  mine — 

The  evil  power  that  lingers  still ; 
That  I  may  be  for  ever  thine, 
And  live  for  ever  to  thy  will. 

Tersteegen. 
( Translated  in  Songs  of  Eternal  Life) 


€ 


EVENING  SONG. 


The  day  is  gone — my  soul  looks  on, 

To  that  Eternal  Day, 
When  our  sorrow  and  our  sin 

Shall  all  have  passed  away. 

The  night  is  here — O  be  thou  near, 

Lord  Jesus,  with  thy  light, 
That  my  sin  may  flee  away 

Like  shadows  of  the  night. 

The  golden  sun  is  sunk  and  gone, 

Thou  light  of  heaven  above, 
Shine  through  clouds  and  darkness  down, 

And  light  me  with  thy  love. 

Each  living  thing  lies  slumbering, 

From  care  and  labour  free ; 
May  I,  Lord,  be  still,  and  watch 

Thy  hidden  work  in  me. 


EVENING  SONG.  277 

But  when  shall  cease  the  changefulness 

Of  morning  and  of  night  1 
When  the  glory  of  the  Lord 

Shall  be  the  living  light. 

No  cloud  shall  come,  no  evening  gloom 

On  Salem  shall  descend  ; 
The  Lord  her  everlasting  light, — 

Her  mourning  at  an  end. 

All  praise  to  Thee,  O  there  to  be, 

Amidst  that  music  flood  ! 
The  many  waters  echoing  round 

The  golden  shores  of  God. 

O  Jesus  mine,  Thou  rest  divine, 

Lead  me  to  Zion's  height, 
That  I,  with  all  thy  ransomed  ones. 
May  walk  with  Thee  in  white. 

Freylixghausen. 
(Translated  i?i  Songs  of  Eternal  Life) 


I  WILL  NOT  LEAVE  YOU. 

Now  the  hour  is  drawing  near 
Which  your  Master  shall  remove  ; 

Little  children  do  not  fear, 
He  shall  not  forego  his  love ; 

With  the  banner'd  cross  unfurl'd 

Fear  no  tumults  of  the  world. 

When  He  wills,  the  parting  storm 
Shall  an  azure  sky  disclose  ; 

Thence  shall  stoop  joy's  deathless  form 
Smiling  on  your  vanished  woes ; 

While  the  world's  brief  pleasures  flow 

To  the  sea  of  endless  woe. 


He  who  as  a  brother  died, 
And  in  the  cold  grave  below 

Laid  Him  by  his  brethren's  side, 
He  shall  hence  before  you  go, 

And  take  you  with  Him  to  dwell 

In  glory  unapproachable. 


/  WILL  NOT  LEAVE  YOU. 


279 


May  we  here,  Lord,  die  with  Thee, 
And  with  thy  true  wisdom  wise, 

Put  on  immortality, 

Having  treasure  in  the  skies, 

Where  all  things  with  one  accord 

Sing  the  Triune  Holy  Lord. 

From  the  Latin, 


DESIRE   OF   DEATH. 


When  strongest  my  desire  of  death, 

I  least  am  fit  to  die ; 
Because  the  will  which  keeps  my  breath, 

I  then  would  fain  deny. 

Why  would  the  servant,  ere  the  time, 

Enter  the  Master's  room, 
Who  may,  as  for  a  heedless  crime, 

To  longer  waiting  doom  ? 

The  angel  who  would  change  his  place, 
For  work  or  watch  ordained, 

God  might  well  exile  from  his  face, 
As  one  with  folly  stained. 

'Tis  the  same  course,  the  saint  above, 

And  earthly  fellow  suits ; 
To  serve  and  sing,  to  look  and  love, 

And  bring  the  Lord  his  fruits. 


DESIRE  OF  DEATH.  281 

I  must,  by  longer  stay  on  earth, 

Better  for  heaven  prepare  : 
I  may  not  go,  with  such  a  dearth 

Of  graces  needful  there. 

God,  more  of  strength  for  duty  give ; 

More  patience,  Christ,  supply ; 
When  longer  I  am  fit  to  live, 

I  shall  be  fit  to  die. 

Lord  Kinloch. 


TRIUMPH  OVER  DEATH. 

Yes,  thou  shalt  rise  again,  my  dust,  more  blest 
After  thy  hasty  rest. 
Undying  life  to  live, 
Will  He  who  made  thee  give. 
Praised  be  He  ! 

• 

Sown  but  to  bloom  again  once  more,  was  I. 
The  harvest  Lord  goes  by  ; 
He  gathers  in  the  sheaves, 
Nor  thine,  nor  mine,  He  leaves. 
Praised  be  He  ! 

Oh,  day  of  gratitude  !  Oh,  day  of  bliss  ! 
God's  own  best  day  is  this, 
Which,  my  short  slumber  o'er, 
From  the  cold  grave  once  more 
Shall  wake  me. 


TRIUMPH  OVER  DEATH. 


283 


How  like  a  dream  will  it  then  seem  to  me  ! 
With  Jesus  shall  I  be  : 
In  all  his  joys  I  share, 
Each  wear}-  pilgrim  care 
Is  past  for  me. 

Oh  !  to  the  Holiest,  my  Redeemer,  lead  : 
Then  shall  I  live  indeed 
In  sanctity,  there  raise 
My  voice,  his  name  to  praise, 
For  evermore  ! 

From  the  German. 


THE  CONSOLATION  OF  THE  BEREAVED. 

Life's  load  is  heavy,  and  we  bow 

Beneath  the  burden  wearily  ; 
But  shall  we  faint  in  weakness,  now 
That  one  is  free  % 

Life's  way  is  dark,  the  clouds  of  woe 

Veil  the  faint  star-beams  from  our  sight ; 
Yet  press  we  onward,  for  we  know 
One  is  in  light ! 

Life's  course  is  long,  our  weary  hearts 
Pant  for  the  goal  with  toil  distrest ; 
Yet  strength  the  blessed  thought  imparts, 
One  is  at  rest ! 


Life's  pains  are  sharp ;  the  aching  head 

Seeks  a  short  hour  of  rest  in  vain ; 
Yet  on  o?ie  brow  repose  is  shed — 
One  has  no  pain  ! 


CONSOLATION  OF  THE  BEREAVED.    285 

Life's  dreary  waste  is  wild  and  rude, 

And  shelterless  our  footsteps  roam ; 
Yet  is  our  failing  strength  renew'd — 
One  is  at  home  ! 

Life's  wants  are  fierce  :  from  burning  thirst 

No  stream  our  spirits  may  restore ; 
One  dwells  where  living  fountains  burst, 
And  thirsts  no  more  ! 

Life's  conflict  thickens  :  from  the  strife, 
Wounded  and  worn,  we  seek  release ; 
But  the  rude  warfare  still  is  rife — 
One  is  in  peace  ! 

Life's  ills  are  piercing  !  wild  the  woe 

Fills  the  lone  heart  by  grief  opprest ; 
Yet  'midst  our  tears  'tis  bliss  to  know 
That  one  is  blest ! 

Caroline  Dent. 


BEARING  THE  CROSS. 

The  heavier  cross,  the  nearer  heaven  : 

No  cross  without,  no  God  within ; 
Death,  judgment,  from  the  heart  are  driven, 
Amidst  the  world's  false  glare  and  din. 
O  happy  he,  with  all  his  loss, 
Whom  God  hath  set  beneath  the  cross  ! 


The  heavier  cross,  the  better  Christian ; 

This  is  the  touchstone  God  applies. 
How  many  a  garden  would  lie  wasting, 
Unwet  by  showers  from  weeping  eyes  ! 
The  gold  by  fire  is  purified ; 
The  Christian  is  by  trouble  tried. 

The  heavier  cross,  the  stronger  faith ; 

The  loaded  palm  strikes  deeper  root ; 
The  vine  juice  sweetly  issueth 

When  men  have  pressed  the  clustered  fruit ; 
And  courage  grows  where  dangers  come, 
Like  pearls  beneath  the  salt  sea  foam. 


BEARING  THE  CROSS.  287 

The  heavier  cross,  the  heartier  prayer; 

The  bruised  herbs  most  fragrant  are ; 
If  wind  and  sky  were  always  fair, 

The  sailor  would  not  watch  the  star ; 
And  David's  Psalms  had  ne'er  been  sung; 
If  grief  his  heart  had  never  wrung. 

The  heavier  cross,  the  more  aspiring ; 

From  vales  we  climb  to  mountain  crest ; 
The  pilgrim,  of  the  desert  tiring, 
Longs  for  the  Canaan  of  his  rest. 
The  dove  has  here  no  rest  in  sight, 
And  to  the  ark  she  wings  her  flight. 

The  heavier  cross,  the  easier  dying ; 
Death  is  a  friendlier  face  to  see ; 
To  life's  decay  one  bids  defying ; 
From  life's  distress  one  then  is  free. 
The  cross  sublimely  lifts  our  faith 
To  Him  who  triumphed  over  death. 

Thou  crucified  !  the  cross  I  carry  ; 

The  longer  may  it  dearer  be ; 
And,  lest  I  faint  whilst  here  I.  tarry, 
Implant  Thou  such  an  heart  in  me, 

That  faith,  hope,  love,  may  flourish  there, 
Till,  for  my  cross,  the  crown  I  wear. 

Anon. 


JERUSALEM  AND  THE    MORNING  STAR. 

The  morning  star  is  beaming  j 
Its  gentle  lustre  streaming 

Full  in  the  sleeper's  face. 
And  yet  the  sleeper  dreameth, 
And  wearily  she  seemeth 

Her  bygone  woes  to  trace. 

She  sorely  comfort  needeth ; 
And  yet  no  comfort  heedeth ; 

Afflicted  and  forlorn. 
Her  inmost  heart  is  grieved  ; 
Of  all  her  sons  bereaved  ; 

She  can  but  weep  and  mourn. 

Her  midnight  lamp  hath  failed  ; 
And  deepest  gloom  prevailed 

Around  yon  widowed  queen. 
Yet  still  sweet  hope  abideth  j 
And  while  despair  derideth, 

The  morning  star  is  seen  ! 


JERUSALEM  AND  MORNING  ST  A  R.     289 

The  morning  star  is  beaming  ; 
Its  gentle  lustre  streaming 

Full  in  the  sleeper's  face. 
And  yet  the  sleeper  dreameth  ; 
And  wearily  she  seemeth, 

Her  bygone  woes  to  trace. 

Long  ages  hath  she  slumbered. 
Her  hours  of  grief  are  numbered  ; 

For  many  seek  her  peace. 
The  eastern  sky  is  lighter, 
The  mountain  tops  grow  brighter, 

Soon  shall  her  sorrows  cease. 

The  grateful  dew  is  falling. 
The  early  watchmen  calling, 

"Zion  arise  and  shine; 
The  words  of  comfort  greet  thee, 
Thy  Bridegroom  comes  to  meet  thee, 

Rise,  Israel,  rise  and  shine." 

Mrs.  Finn. 


^yr 


OUR  EARTHLY    SOJOURN. 


I  look  abroad  upon  the  verdant  fields, 

The  song  of  birds  is  on  the  summer  air ; 
Within,  how  many  a  treasure  sometimes  yields, 
To  bless  my  life,  and  round  the  edge  of  care ; 
And  yet  the  earth  and  air, 
All  that  seems  good  and  fair, 
That  still  is  mine,  or  once  hath  been, 
Now  teach  me,  I  am  but  a  pilgrim  here, 
Without  a  home,  and  dwelling  in  an  inn. 

Not  ever  has  the  outlook  been  so  clear : 

There  have  been  days  when  stormy  gusts  went  by; 
Nights  when  my  wearied  heart  was  full  of  fear, 
And  God  seemed  further  off  than  stars  and  sky; 
Yet  then  when  grief  was  nigh, 
My  soul  could  sometimes  cry 
Out  of  the  depths  of  sorrow  and  of  sin, 
That  at  the  worst,  I  was  but  a  pilgrim  here, 
With  home  beyond,  while  dwelling  in  an  inn. 


OUR  EARTHL  Y  SOJOURN.  291 

Now  I  complain  not  of  this  life  of  mine, 

I  less  of  shade  have  had  than  of  the  sun; 
The  gracious  Father,  with  a  hand  divine, 

Has  crowned  with  mercies  his  unworthy  one ; 
My  cup  has  overrun, 
And  I,  his  will  undone, 
Have  changed  his  blessings  into  sin, 
As  I  forgot  I  was  but  a  pilgrim  here, 

Homeless  at  best,  and  dwelling  as  in  an  inn. 

Look  at  me,  Lord  !  Have  I  not  need  to  pray 

That  this  fair  world,  which  gives  so  much  to  me 
Serve  not  to  lead  my  steps  so  far  astray 

That  at  the  end  they  leave  me  not  with  Thee  ] 
Dear  Lord,  let  not  this  be ; 
Nay,  rather  let  me  see 
Beyond  this  life  my  days  begin, 
And  singing  on  my  way,  a  pilgrim  here, 
Rejoice  that  I  am  dwelling  in  an  inn. 

Dear  Son  of  God  !  by  whom  tlrjs  world  was  made, 
Yet  homeless  had  not  where  to  lay  thy  head ; 

(Not  e'en  by  kindred  was  thy  body  laid 

In  Joseph's  tomb — thou  Lord  of  quick  and  dead  !) 
By  thy  example  led, 


292 


LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 


Of  me  may  it  be  said, 
When  I  shall  rest  and  peace  begin, 
He  lived  as  one  who  was  a  pilgrim  here, 

And  found  his  home  while  dwelling  in  an  inn. 

D.  F.   Randolph. 


A    HYMN. 

Jesus  !  the  ladder  of  my  faith 

Rests  on  the  jasper  walls  of  heaven  ; 

And  through  the  veiling  clouds  I  catch 
Faint  visions  of  the  mystic  Seven. 

The  glory  of  the  rainbowed  throne 

Illumes  those  clouds  like  lambent  flame  ; 

As  once,  on  earth,  thy  love  divine 

Burned  through  the  robe  of  human  shame. 


Thou  art  the  same,  O  gracious  Lord  ! 

The  same  dear  Christ  that  Thou  wert  then ; 
And  all  the  praises  angels  sing 

Delight  Thee  less  than  prayers  of  men. 

* 

We  have  no  tears  Thou  wilt  not  dry ; 

We  have  no  wounds  Thou  wilt  not  heal  ; 
Xo  sorrows  pierce  our  human  hearts, 

That  Thou,  dear  Saviour,  dost  not  feel, 


294  LYRA    CONSOLATIONIS. 

Thy  pity,  like  the  dew,  distils ; 

And  thy  compassion,  like  the  light, 
Our  every  morning  overfills, 

And  crowns  with  stars  our  every  night. 

Let  not  the  world's  rude  conflict  drown 

The  charmed  music  of  thy  voice, 

That  calls  all  weary  souls  to  rest, 

And  bids  all  mourning  souls  rejoice. 

Anon. 


I  MOVE  INTO  THE  LIGHT. 

Out  of  the  shadows  that  shroud  the  soul, 
Out  of  the  seas  where  the  sad  waves  roll, 
Far  from  the  whirl  of  each  mundane  pole, 
"  I  move  into  the  light  !" 

Out  of  the  region  of  cloud  and  rain, 
Out  of  the  cares  that  oppress  the  brain, 
Out  of  the  body  of  sin  and  pain, 

"  I  move  into  the  light  !" 

Out  of  the  struggles  of  church  and  state, 
Out  of  the  empire  of  pride  and  hate, 
Up  through  the  beautiful  sapphire  gate, 
"I  move  into  the  light  !" 


Beyond  the  noise  of  creation's  jars, 
Higher  than  all  the  worlds  and  stars, 
Higher  than  limits  of  reason's  bars, 


"I  move  into  the  light  !" 


296 


LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 


We  follow  after  to  those  high  spheres  ; 
Notes  of  thy  rapture  fall  on  our  ears  ; 
Out  of  our  darkness,  our  sins,  and  fears, 
"  We  move  into  the  light !" 

Anon. 


DYING   IN   THE   LORD. 


How  blest  the  righteous  when  he  dies  ! 

When  sinks  a  weary  soul  to  rest, 
How  mildly  beam  the  closing  eyes ; 

How  gently  heaves  the  expiring  breast  ! 

So  fades  a  summer  cloud  away ; 

So  sinks  the  gale  when  storms  are  o'er ; 
So  gently  shuts  the  eye  of  day ; 

So  dies  a  wave  along  the  shore. 

A  holy  quiet  reigns  around, 

A  calm  which  life  nor  death  destroys ; 
Nothing  disturbs  that  peace  profound 

Which  his  unfetter'd  soul  enjoys. 

Farewell,  conflicting  hopes  and  fears, 
Where  lights  and  shades  alternate  dwell  ! 

How  bright  the  unchanging  morn  appears ; 
Farewell,  inconstant  world,  farewell ! 

Bareauld. 


MY   LIFE'S   A  SHADE. 

My  life's  a  shade,  my  days 
Apace  to  death  decline ; 
My  Lord  is  life,  he'll  raise 
My  flesh  again ,  even  mine. 
Sweet  truth  to  me, 
I  shall  arise, 
And  with  these  eyes 
My  Saviour  see. 

My  peaceful  grave  shall  keep 
My  bones  till  that  sweet  day 

I  wake  from  my  long  sleep, 
And  leave  my  bed  of  clay. 
Sweet  truth  to  me,  etc. 

My  Lord  his  angels  shall 

Their  golden  trumpets  sound, 

At  whose  most  welcome  call 
My  grave  shall  be  unbound. 
Sweet  truth  to  me,  etc. 


MY  LIFE'S  A  SHADE. 

What  means  my  beating  heart 
To  be  afraid  of  death  % 

My  life  and  I  shan't  part, 
Tho'  I  resign  my  breath. 
Sweet  truth  to  me,  etc. 

I  said  sometimes  with  tears, 
Ah,  me  !  I'm  loath  to  die ; 

Lord,  silence  thou  these  fears, 
My  life's  with  Thee  on  high. 
Sweet  truth  to  me,  etc. 

Then  welcome  harmless  grave, 
By  thee  to  Heaven  I'll  go ; 

My  Lord  his  death  shall  save 
Me  from  the  flames  below. 
Sweet  truth  to  me,  etc. 


299 


Crossman. 


ONWARD. 

Rise,  my  soul,  thy  God  directs  thee, 
Stranger  hands  no  more  impede ; 

Pass  thou  on,  his  strength  protects  thee, 
Strength  that  has  the  captive  freed. 

Is  the  wilderness  before  thee — 

Desert  lands  where  drought  abides  ? 

Heavenly  springs  shall  there  restore  thee, 
Fresh  from  God's  exhaustless  tides. 


Light  divine  surrounds  thy  going, 
God  himself  shall  mark  thy  way  ; 

Secret  blessings,  richly  flowing, 
Lead  to  everlasting  day. 

God,  thine  everlasting  portion, 

Feeds  thee  with  the  mighty's  meat ; 

Sav'd  from  Egypt's  hard  extortion, 
Egypt's  food  no  more  to  eat. 


ONWARD.  301 

Art  thou  wean'd  from  Egypt's  pleasures  1 
God,  in  secret,  shall  thee  keep ; 

There  unfold  his  hidden  treasures, — 
There  his  love's  exhaustless  deep. 

In  the  desert  God  will  teach  thee 

What  the  God  that  thou  hast  found, — 

Patient,  gracious,  powerful,  holy; — 
All  his  grace  shall  there  abound. 

On  to  Canaan's  rest  still  wending, 
E'en  thy  wants  and  woes  shall  bring 

Suited  grace  from  high  descending, — 
Thou  shalt  taste  of  mercy's  spring. 

Though  thy  way  be  long  and  dreary, 
Eagle  strength  He'll  still  renew ; 

Garments  fresh,  and  feet  unweary, 

Tell  how  God  hath  brought  thee  through. 

When  to  Canaan's  long-loVed  dwelling 
Love  divine  thy  foot  shall  bring, 

There,  with  shouts  of  triumph  swelling, 
Zion's  songs  in  rest  to  sing. 


302 


LYRA  C0NS0LATI0NIS. 


There  no  stranger-God  shall  meet  thee ; — 
Stranger  thou  in  courts  above  ! 

He  who  to  his  rest  shall  greet  thee, 
Greets  thee  with  a  well-known  love. 

Darbv. 


HOPE   IN   LONELINESS. 


Oh,  what  a  lonely  path  were  ours, 

Could  we,  O  Father,  see, 
No  home  of  rest  beyond  it  all, 

No  guide  or  help  in  Thee. 

But  Thou  art  near,  and  with  us  still, 

To  keep  us  on  the  way 
That  leads  along  this  vale  of  tears 

To  the  bright  world  of  day. 

There  shall  thy  glory,  O  our  God  ! 

Break  fully  on  our  view  : 
And  we,  thy  saints,  rejoice  to  find 

That  all  thy  word  wa^  true. 

There  Jesus,  on  his  heavenly  throne, 
Our  wond'ring  eyes  shall  see  : 

While  we,  the  blest  associates  there 
Of  all  his  joy  shall  be. 


304  LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 

Sweet  hope  !  we  leave  without  a  sigh 

A  blighted  world  like  this ; 
To  bear  the  cross,  despise  the  shame, 

For  all  that  weight  of  bliss. 

Yet  little  do  thy  saints,  at  best, 

Endure,  O  Lord,  for  Thee, 
Whose  suffering  soul  bore  all  our  sins 

And  sorrows  on  the  tree  : 

Who  faced  our  fierce  and  ruthless  foe, 

Unaided  and  alone  ; 
To  win  us  for  thy  crown  of  joy, 

To  raise  us  to  thy  throne. 

Sir  E.  Denny 


EXTRA    PORTAM. 

The  following  is  a  translation  of  the  Latin  hymn  of 
Hildebert,  written  about  the  close  of  the  eleventh  century. 
The  reader  will  recognise  four  great  Bible  scenes  in  it — first, 
the  raising  of  the  widow's  son  ;  second,  the  stilling  of  the 
storm  ;  third,  the  barren  fig  tree ;  fourth,  the  casting  out  of 
the  evil  spirit  from  the  child.  It  is  only  part  of  a  larger 
poem,  the  terse  Latinity  and  metaphysical  Augustinianism  of 
which  make  the  translation  a  work  of  great  difficulty. 


From  the  gate  now  carried  forth, 
Putrid,  covered,  earth  with  earth  ; 
Bound,  the  stone  upon  him  lies, 
If  thou  biddest,  he  shall  rise. 
Speak  the  word,  back  rolls  the  stone ; 
Speak  the  word,  the  shroud  is  gone  : 
All  on  wing,  he  hastes  to  come, 
When  Thou  sayest  leave  the  tomb. 


J 


LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 

On  this  ocean's  troubled  breast 
Pirate  bands  my  bark  infest ; 
Here  the  foe  and  there  the  wave, 
Death  and  trouble  round  me  rave. 
Come,  good  Helmsman,  come  at  last. 
Smooth  the  sea  and  hush  the  blast, 
Bid  these  pirates  turn  and  flee, 
Bring  to  port  my  bark  and  me. 

Barren  fig-tree  sure  am  I 
Every  branch  is  bare  and  dry. 
Hew  and  burn — it  merits  all — 
Justly  would  the  sentence  fall. 
Yet  one  other  year,  oh  spare, 
Dig  it,  dung  it,  it  may  bear ; 
If  not,  then  the  fire,  ah  me, 
Must  consume  the  fruitless  tree. 

'Gainst  me  the  old  enemy 

Flood  and  flame  doth  fiercely  ply ; 

Faint,  afflicted,  there  is  none 

Left  for  me  but  Thou  alone. 

That  this  enemy  may  flee, 

That  the  sick  one  healed  may  be, 

Help  thy  sick  one  night  and  day, 

Help  him,  Lord,  to  fast  and  pray ; — 


EXTRA  PORTAM. 

This  the  Lord  would  have  us  know  ; 
Shall  deliver  from  this  foe. 
From  his  grasp  my  soul  unwind  ; 
Give  the  loyal  lowly  mind ; 
Give,  oh  give,  the  fear  divine, 
Lacking  which  no  heaven  is  mine  ; 
Give  hope,  faith,  and  charity, 
Give  me  prudent  piety ; 
Give  contempt  of  earthly  toys, 
Appetite  for  heavenly  joys. 


Thou  art  all  of  hope  to  me  : 
All,  O  God,  I  seek  from  Thee. 
Thee  my  praise,  my  good  I  call ; 
Thou  my  gift,  and  Thou  my  all. 
Thou  in  toil  my  solace  art, 
Cordial  of  my  fainting  heart. 
Thou  in  grief  my  lyre,  O  God  ; 
Thou  the  lightener  of  the  rod. 
Thou  in  bonds  me  settest  free, 
Thou  in  falls  upliftest  me  ! 
Still  in  wealth  bestowing  fear, 
Still  in  want  preserving  cheer. 
Injured,  Thou  requitest  ill, 
Threatened,  Thou  defendest  still 


308  LYRA  CONSOLATIONIS. 

What  is  dark  Thou  dost  unseal, 
What  needs  veiling  Thou  dost  veil. 

All,  Thou  wilt  not  let  me  go, 
To  the  prison-cells  below, 
Where  the  sorrow,  where  the  fear, 
Where  the  stench,  and  where  the  tear ; 
Where  all  sin  is  brought  to  light, 
And  the  guilty  plunged  in  night. 
Where  the  torturer  ceaseth  never, 
Where  the  worm  shall  gnaw  for  ever  ; 
Endless  all,  unchangeable ; 
Endless  death,  and  endless  hell. 

Mine  be  Zion,  city  blest, 
Zion,  David's  seat  of  rest ; 
She  whose  Former  formed  the  light, 
She  whose  gate  the  cross  makes  bright, 
She  whose  keys  are  Peter's  voice, 
She  whose  dwellers  all  rejoice ; 
Living  stones  her  walls  do  fill, 
King  of  joy  her  guardian  still ; 
Here  is  light  without  decay, 
Spring  eternal  peace  for  aye. 
Fragrance  filling  heaven  on  high, 
Ever  festal  melody. 


EXTRA  PORTAM.  3°9 

Xo  corruption  taints  its  air, 

No  defect,  no  murmur  there, 

None  there  dwarfed  and  none  deformed, 

All  to  Christ  have  been  conformed. 

Heavenly  city,  city  blest, 

On  the  rock  securely  placed, 

In  thy  haven  calmly  set, 

From  afar  thy  walls  I  greet ; 

Thee  I  hail,  for  thee  I  sigh, 

Thee  I  love,  for  thee  I  cry. 

How  thy  sons  rejoice  in  love, 

How  they  keep  the  feast  above, 

What  they  feel  mid  yonder  light, 

Or  what  gems  their  walls  make  bright, 

Jacinth's  or  chalcedon's  glow, — 

They  who  are  within  thee  know  ! — 

In  the  streets  of  yonder  city, 

May  I,  with  the  holy  throng, 
Joined  with  Moses  and  Elias, 

Sing  the  Hallelujah  song. 


INDEX  TO   FIRST  LINES. 


Page 

Affliction  is  a  stormy  deep 

204 

After  long  storms  and  tempests 

26 

Ah  !  I  shall  soon  be  dying 

.    215 

A  little  while          ..... 

.    188 

Arise    ....... 

•    115 

Art  thou  weak,  afflicted  soul  ? 

41 

A  son  of  man  the  Son  of  God  became 

90 

Be  it  my  anxious  care  to  know 

129 

Be  still,  my  soul     ...... 

172 

Beloved,  "it  is  well!" 

57 

Bliss  beyond  compare      . 

169 

Call  earth  an  Eden          .                  * . 

.      182 

Call  Jehovah  thy  salvation       .          .          .          . 

176 

Cling  to  the  Mighty  One          . 

•        37 

Death  steals  upon  us  unawares 

.       88 

Deep  in  the  heart's  remotest  cell 

206 

312              INDEX  TO  FIRST  LINES. 

Page 

Farewell,  poor  world       . 

.      166 

Far  from  home       ...... 

2IO 

Far  from  these  narrow  scenes  of  night 

•          84 

Father  !  for  rest  in  Thee           . 

I90 

Father,  into  thy  loving  hands 

•        253 

"  Father  !  not  my  will,  but  Thine  " 

•       245 

For  by  afflictions,  man  refined  growes 

.       208 

From  the  far-off  fields  of  earthly  toil 

I46 

From  the  gate  now  carried  forth 

•       305 

From  this  bleak  hill  of  storms 

44 

Gently,  gently  lay  thy  rod        . 

.     209 

God's  furnace  doth  in  Zion  stand 

•        5i 

God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way 

•       55 

Great  joy  to  me  it  were  to  join  the  throng 

27 

Have  we  not  now  a  golden  daye  ?     . 

•       35 

Hear  what  God  the  Lord  hath  spoken 

226 

Here  I  find  no  rest          . 

102 

Here  lies  the  ruined  cabinet     . 

•     243 

High  lies  the  better  country     . 

109 

Home  of  the  conquerors 

•     132 

How  blest  the  righteous  when  he  dies 

•     297 

How  strange  is  heavenly  love  . 

.     117 

I  cannot  call  affliction  sweet     . 

21 1 

I  know  that  my  Redeemer  lives 

•       77 

I  know  the  child  is  fled  . 

.       28 

I  look  abroad  upon  the  verdant  fields 

.     290 

INDEX  TO  FIRST  LINES, 


I  love  to  steal  awhile  away 

I'm  going  to  leave  all  my  sadness 

I  mourn  no  more  my  vanished  years 

I  should  not  mourn  my  passing  youth 

I  sojourn  in  a  vale  of  tears 

If  my  bark  be  strong 

In  vain  our  fancy    . 

It  is  the  Lord 

It  is  thy  hand,  my  God  ! 

Jesus,  I  cast  my  soul  on  Thee 

Jesus  !  most  holy  One     . 

Jesus,  my  lovinge  spouse 

Jesus,  my  sorrow  lies  too  deep 

Jesus,  our  head,  once  crowned  with  thorns 

Jesus  !  the  ladder  of  my  faith 

Let  me  depart,  beloved  . 

Let  not  the  godly  man  affliction  fear 

Life's  load  is  heavy 

Look  up,  look  up   . 

Lord,  a  happy  child  of  Thine 

Man's  life's  a  sigh,  a  groan,  a  cry    . 

Mortal,  who  sittest  silent 

My  feet  are  worn  and  weary 

My  God,  it  is  not  fretfulness 

My  life's  a  shade    . 

My  Saviour  be  thou  near  me 


Page 
262 

47 

19 

193 
70 

68 
178 

64 
212 

83 
197 

240 

49 
293 

152 
214 
284 

17 
127 

86 

136 
121 

107 
298 

74 


314              INDEX  TO  FIRST  LINES. 

Page 

My  soul  amid  this  stormy  world 

104 

My  soul  doth  pant  towards  Thee 

15 

My  span  of  life  will  soon  be  done 

63 

"  My  times  are  in  thy  hand  " 

IOO 

No  more  let  sorrow  cloud  your  eye  . 

264 

No  !  no  !     It  is  not  dying 

I50 

Not  from  Jerusalem  alone 

80 

Now  the  hour  is  drawing  near 

.      278 

0  gentle  Shepherd,  guided  by  thy  hand 

•      250 

O  heavenly  Jerusalem 

.       266 

■  Oh  !  blessed  be  the  heart  that  breaks 

-       125 

Oh,  help  me  o'er  this  river 

•       199 

Oh,  past  are  the  Fast-Days 

•      232 

Oh  !  save  me  from  this  hour    . 

•       256 

Oh  !  there  are  sorrows  deep    . 

217 

Oh,  there  is  a  bed 

236 

Oh,  weep  not  o'er  thy  children's  tomb 

168 

Oh,  what  a  lonely  path  were  ours 

303 

0  Israel,  who  is  like  to  thee  ? 

6l 

0  Lord  !  across  our  path 

219 

O  loss  of  sight        .... 

164 

O  loved,  but  not  enough 

58 

On  Alpine  heights 

II I 

On  mountains  and  in  valleys    . 

-       53 

Open  to  Me,  my  sister    . 

238 

O  Saviour,  let  my  wearied  spirit  rest 

249 

Oh  thou,  by  long  experience  tried     . 

140 

IXDEX  TO  FIRST  LINES. 

315 

Page 

0  Thou,  from  whom  all  goodness  flows     . 

.       221 

Our  beloved  have  departed       .... 

•        134 

Out  of  the  shadows  that  shroud  the  soul    . 

•       295 

Out  on  an  ocean    ...... 

.       186 

0  welcome  hiding-place            .... 

26l 

0  what  a  glorious  lot  shall  then  be  mine   . 

.          92 

Peace  be  with  you  !..... 

•       234 

Quiet  from  God  !    . 

•       138 

Rest,  rest  in  hope  ...... 

.       ISO 

Rest,  weary  soul    ...... 

•       154 

Rise,  my  soul,  thy  God  directs  thee 

.       3OO 

Rock  and  refuge  of  my  soul     .... 

•       247 

See  Faith,  with  upward  eyes   .... 

l62 

Silently,  over  land  and  sea       .... 

93 

Sorrow  weeps         ...... 

13 

So  till  men's  persons  great  afflictions  touch 

.     223 

Speechless  sorrow  sat  with  me 

•     "3 

Star  of  my  hope     ...... 

.     181 

Still  in  a  world  of  sin  and  pain 

.     171 

Strong  is  death's  chilly  blast     . 

•     i95 

Sweet  cup  of  sorrow        ..... 

1 

Sweet  was  the  journey  to  the  sky 

62 

Take  thy  staff,  0  pilgrim          .... 

201 

Thank  the  Lord  for  every  sorrow 

•       30 

316 


INDEX  TO  FIRST  LINES 


The  baby  wept       .... 
The  clouds  are  returning  after  the  rain 
The  day  is  gone     .... 
The  God  of  Abraham  praise    . 
The  heavier  cross,  the  nearer  heaven 
The  hopes  that  made  my  gladness     . 
The  morning  star  is  beaming   . 
There  is  a  day  of  rest  before  thee 
The  tear  will  fall,  O  Father     . 
The  time  will  come 
The  wise  man  grieves  not 
They  dread  no  storm  that  lowers 
This  then  must  be  the  med'cine 
Thou  child  of  God  in  sorrow   . 
Though  the  heart  that  sorrow  chideth 
Thou  sweet  beloved  will  of  God 
Thou,  who  didst  stoop  below  . 
Thou  wilt  never  grow  old 
Thy  thoughts  were  on  Jerusalem 
Thy  ways,  O  Lord  !  with  wise  design 
To  Thee  my  heart  would  tell  its  griefs 
Two  hands  upon  the  breast 

We  go  with  the  redeem'd  to  taste 

We  seek  a  rest  beyond  the  skies 

We  would  see  Jesus 

What  have  I  yet  to  do  ? 

What  is  this  life?  . 

What  though  time  on  earth  were  over  ? 


Page 
131 

42 

276 

31 

286 
224 
288 
270 
I56 

25 
268 

23 
269 

228 

6 

273 
174 
158 

139 
79 

259 
1 1 

1.06 

5 
123 
144 

75 
39 


IXDEX  TO  FIRST  LINES. 

317 

Page 

When  all  beneath  the  ample  cope  of  heaven 

.       252 

When  friend  from  friend  is  parting  . 

66 

When  heart  and  flesh  despondent     . 

160 

When  I  am  dead,  and  silent  lying    . 

.      183 

When  quiet  in  my  house  I  sit  . 

59 

When  strongest  my  desire  of  death  . 

.     280 

When  the  glowing  pulse  of  health    . 

97 

When  the  spark  of  life  is  waning 

99 

When  the  vale  of  death  appears 

142 

Where  the  mourner  weeping    .... 

202 

Who  fathoms  the  Eternal  Thought  ? 

7 

"  Without  haste  !  without  rest  !"      . 

.      119 

Yes  ;   every  heart  its  sorrow  knows  . 

.     230 

Yes,  thou  mayest  weep  ..... 

•     257 

Yes,  thou  shalt  rise  again,  my  dust  . 

.     282 

1} 

jf|pH 

Printed  by  R.  Clark,  Edinlurgh. 

